


Save Him From Himself

by CayCharming, HollyGlow



Series: Save Him From Himself [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Detox, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Rehabilitation, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 136,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CayCharming/pseuds/CayCharming, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyGlow/pseuds/HollyGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*** COMPLETE BUT IN REVISION***</p><p>Sherlock can't turn his mind off, all it wants to do is think about John in a way that he isn't sure he can handle, so he turns to drugs. But when John finds out and Sherlock's past comes back to haunt him will the two be able to navigate the minefield of detoxing, Sherlock's history, and their blossoming love without falling apart at the seams?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught in the Act

**Author's Note:**

> We thought this story would be short but little did we know it turned into this beautiful, angsty, smutty mess that we're still writing. Enjoy!
> 
> 3/13/14 - Hey lovelies! This story was written fast and posted fast, so I am now going to take the time to go back and edit it properly. ~ Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft brings John and Lestrade in on the secret Sherlock's been harboring. When John confronts Sherlock, there's only one clear choice left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! This is the second fic by CayCullen and I. When we started out writing it, we expected it to be a short and sweet little one shot. Instead it blossomed into a full length fic of it's own. 
> 
> It's currently complete but deep in the revision stage. Chapter 1 has been edited and revised and is now reposted for your enjoyment.
> 
> Cast:
> 
> Mycroft/John - HollyGlow  
> Sherlock/Greg - CayCullen

            Mycroft Holmes sat stone faced behind his desk in the office where he was to meet Gregory Lestrade and John Watson. He sat with his fingers steepled in front of his chin, looking disapprovingly down at the folder sitting on the desk in front of him. He seemed more angular than usual, concern evident in his eyes, as he waited in perfect stillness for the other two men to arrive. The situation was grave, Sherlock was likely endangering himself for some trivial reason, like he had done before. Mycroft could still here the echo of his brother's voice claiming that the drugs were the only thing that gave him peace. He knew the two men, both the closest confidants of his brother's, were trustworthy. He knew they would get to the bottom of this issue, but he worried what the situation meant. Why had Sherlock relapsed when he had cases to attend to and John to keep him entertained? If the pictures he'd acquired were true... Well, Sherlock would have quite a bit to answer for.He heard a door click open down the hall and the following echo of a footfall that meant John had arrived and was on his way to the office. The shorter man strode into the room like a man on a mission, ignoring how Mycroft's gaze fixated on him and began to pick him apart. He was used to that sort of thing, living in a flat with the famous Sherlock Holmes prepared one to bear that look every day. He sighed as he surveyed the distinct features of the way John was carrying himself. John's face was tight with emotion; he knew that Mycroft calling him meant something was wrong. That coupled with the face Sherlock had been acting strange for several weeks now and no one seemed to know why was enough to almost instill panic in his chest. Sherlock for his part kept telling him he was fine. That he was just going out for fresh air or the check on something for a case. But he never told John where he was going and each time John prompted the detective for more information or offered to accompany him, he was turned away. It made John afraid, the last time Sherlock had acted this way he'd ended up living without him for three years. He didn't want to think about what Sherlock might be doing during all those hours away from Baker Street. His behavior had become more erratic and just this morning they'd had a fierce row simply over a coffee cup. 

                        "Mycroft." John snapped by way of a greeting. He was tense already and the look on Mycroft’s face didn’t help soothe his nerves. He sank down into the chair in front of Mycroft, his leg bouncing nervously.

                        "John," Mycroft barely inclined his head. "All we need is Lestrade and we'll be able to begin." He shuffled the files in the folder and then fiddled with the pen on his desk.

                        "Lestrade?" John paled. "Oh hell..." Mycroft's face shifted slightly as his concern became more evident. The emotion threatening to spill over in John's voice was the last confirmation that he needed. The tightness that settled over John as the man looked more broken down than Mycroft had seen him in some time, was enough to betray a host of information regarding the situation. It seemed that his conclusion was likely to be true. 

                        "It is very serious, but please do try to remain calm." Mycroft said softly in an attempt to console John. However it came across as patronizing and John's already thin temper did not respond well.

                        "Right Mycroft, how very easy for you to say." John crossed his arms, biting his bottom lip to keep from saying anything else. He hoped Greg would hurry.

For his part Greg was hurrying, he'd been in the middle of wrapping a crime scene when he'd gotten the call from the elder Holmes, fully aware that a call from Mycroft regarding Sherlock was never good. Everytime the man had called him about the detective something truly awful was happening. The last time had been before St. Bart's, before John had come into Sherlock's life. Things had been dark then, Sherlock had relapsed into his drug habit and it had taken a long time to get him sober. It was for that reason that when he walked into Mycroft's office and saw John, he groaned. John looked like a man lost in the world. The emotion he was fighting betrayed in every movement of his body, every line of his face, and every glance he gave around the room. Clearly whatever was happening was worse than ever. He took a moment to look over both men, since John was sitting, and not pacing erratically he could assume Sherlock was in fact in decent health, or at least not currently in hospital. No... If Sherlock had been hospitalized he would either be trying to figure out how not to arrest John for murder or trying to assure John that murder wasn't an option.

                        "What's happened?"  Greg asked quickly as he dropped down in the seat beside John, he noted that Mycroft's face was also tight with worry. "What's happened to Sherlock?" He asked John just as much as he asked Mycroft but John stayed silent and tight with emotion.

                        "That was what I was hoping you two could tell me." Mycroft sighed and opened the case file, showing them fuzzy surveillance images of what looked like Sherlock and another man talking, exchanging money and something else, and then parting ways. Each picture was labeled with a location and time the picture was taken. Each correlating with one of Sherlock's absences from Baker Street and each taken in a neighborhood that was traditionally considered to be a hotbed of drug activity. "He's been more erratic in behavior and contact with me recently  and he failed to complete a case I asked for his assistance on last week." Mycroft's mouth tightened more, watching as John tensed even more. He was worried the man would snap.

                        "He's been acting odd," John offered softly, disappointment and hurt in his voice as he looked over the images. Lestrade was taken aback by the tone, the emotion of it clearly visible even though John was usually so careful not to reveal how he truly felt when he was in Mycroft's presence. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue. "Not coming home when he should be, leaving in the middle of the night, sleeping less than usual. I’ve tried to get him to talk to me about it but he refuses. Are you saying he's relapsed?" John’s voice betrayed him as it cracked and he slowly raised his eyes to analyze the elder Holmes.

                        "I'm saying it's a strong possibility." Mycroft’s voice was tense and tight with emotion. The fact that Mycroft was even showing emotion worried and confused John all the more.

                        "Christ..." John ran his hand over his face, a sudden wave of panic shooting through him. His mind began to race as he tried to come up with a plan of action. Sherlock might still be at the flat. If he could get Sherlock to talk about this he could do something about it. "I should get back; he was home when I left. Maybe..." John jumped up out of his chair and the eyes of the other two men followed him.

                        "Maybe what?" Mycroft snapped. "You'll talk to him and suddenly this will all go away? I highly doubt that approach will work John. If we don't stop him, he could ruin himself."

                        "And you think that I don't know that?!" John raged, his body tightening. John was almost trembling, Mycroft could see it. John had never seemed so shaken before. He sighed, wondering what the soldier and the detective had done to each other. Greg however broke his gaze away from John, it was almost painful to watch that much emotion be displayed in such a normally calm man. He looked over the photos, surveying each one in silence for awhile before speaking up.

                        "Oh hell," He sighed. "I bust people for drugs here all the time. Lots of us do. If he's not careful he's going to get himself arrested." Greg ran a hair through his hair, his heart sinking low. He had been afraid this was why Mycroft wa calling him. It was starting all over again. Images of Sherlock the last time he relapsed flashed in his mind and he sighed heavily. "Why would he relapse? I mean, what's so bloody awful that he felt the need to turn back to drugs? I thought he was happy." He set the file back down with a sigh. John looked more upset at the question and Greg immediately felt horrible for asking it out loud. He watched as John began to pace, his tells betraying his emotion. He clenched and unclenched his fist and if Greg wasn't mistaken he actually started to limp a bit as he walked. His heart sank again as he guessed that the boys still hadn't had 'the talk' yet. "It was damn near impossible to get him off the stuff last time, I can't even imagine how hard it's going to be this time." Greg wathed as John's mind turned in on itself, as John instantly began blaming himself as he sought a way to fix this for Sherlock. To make everything better for the detective without concern for his own self or wellbeing. Greg was certain that he ought to have a bit more faith in Sherlock, he had changed quite a bit, but the evidence in front of him was rather clear. The proof was there and no matter how much the three of them wanted to deny it, they couldn't. "He'll need to go to rehab again." He said firmly, meeting Mycroft's eyes.

                        "No." John forced out suddenly, his throat seemingly stuck.  His voice was gravelly and full of emotion. His jaw tightened and he clenched his fists. "I can help him with this, I know I can. We should give him a chance to try to clean up without rehab first. We have to keep it quiet." 

                        "It's going to be almost impossible to do that if he gets himself arrested, John." Mycroft's voice was stern. He sat forward crossing his hands on the desk and his mouth fixing itself into a thin line. "What do you propse we do?"

                        "I'll go find him right now; I don't care if I have to search all of London..." John's voice was low, he was half in the room and half onto whatever the next phase of his plan was. "He'll think we're rallied against him if we just round him up and ship him off. Let me try first... Please?" Greg couldn't hide his expression, John was practically begging, and not just begging anyone but begging Mycroft Holmes. He sighed deeply, running his hand over his face. Shite the blogger and the detective would be the death of each other.

                        "John, if you didn't know he was doing this how can we be sure he even trusts you?" Every single fiber of John's being tensed and he looked at Mycroft with a dark look. Greg had a momentary concern that John might launch himself across the desk, but he relaxed just slightly. Mycroft for his part realized what he had said and sighed. "I didn't mean it like that, stop being so dramatic." He scolded.

                        "Just give me a few days, please..." A muscle twitched in John's jaw as he asked, no begged, the elder Holmes for a chance. Begged a second time for what? For someone to finally convince Sherlock to open up to him? Mycroft couldn't do that. Hell, John himself hadn't been able to get Sherlock to do that. But John needed to go to Sherlock alone. Sherlock trusted John with his health. He trusted John when he didn't trust anyone else. John was a doctor, he'd helped people detox before. He could fix this.

                        "So far the cameras suggest he is still in the flat at Baker Street." Mycroft's glare darkened. "But if he leaves and you don't tell me why - I will not hesitate to have Lestrade find him and take him directly to rehab." Mycroft warned darkly.

                        "Just let me talk to him first." John was pacing, anger and betrayal coursed through him. "If you want him better then let me go to him." He wasn't focused, his entire being fixated on the feelings pouring through his veins.

                        "The door is and has been open." Mycroft motioned and John, shooting him another glare, turned to storm out. 

                        "This won't play out well," Greg mumbled as he looked up at Mycroft, listening to John's angry footfall retreat down the hall. Mycroft stood and moved to the window to watch John's exit, sighing. "He's never seen Sherlock when he's high. He's never seen him on edge like we have. He doesn't know there's no talking to him. No reasoning with him. All that matters to him is the high. When's he's using he doesn't care about anything else. Why are you letting him go back to him? Won't that just make things worse?" Greg stood, walking over to the window and joining Mycroft watching John get in a taxi. His mind wandering to Sherlock and wondering what had made to Sherlock chose to go back to his addiction? He thought for sure John would have been able to keep Sherlock clean. "He had been doing so well, what made him relapse?" He tentatively placed his hand on Mycroft's back, offering his lover support.

                        "Honestly, I'm at a loss as to why he would have done this again. Especially considering the cost this time is much higher to him than the last. You've been around him more than I have. Has anything happened between _them_?" Mycroft paced away slightly, watching Greg. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and he stopped pacing. "The last time this happened we didn't have John. That makes John an uncontrolled variable in this situation. We both know John affects my brother differently than either of us can. Perhaps the rage brewing inside of the soldier is just what we need to remind Sherlock of what is at stake. If Sherlock chooses the drugs over John, I will be very surprised." He confided in Greg the things he would never say to John. Most importantly that  John was good for Sherlock.

                        "I don’t know of anything happening between them," Greg sighed, looking over at Mycroft. "I don't know what you think he'll be able to do, Mycroft. He won't be able to deal with Sherlock if he is high. You remember what happened last time. It took three of my men just to get him pinned down and sedated so we could get him to rehab." Greg furrowed his brow, he felt like the only one worried that John would be crushed by this situation. He knew that Sherlock could get sober again and that they could get him to rehab... But he also knew John wasn't likely going to just let Sherlock be taken away. Mycroft smiled softly.

                        "I think you may underestimate John Watson, Greg." He tentatively put his hand on his shoulder. "Either way if we don't let John at least _think_ we gave him the benefit of the doubt, we may lose them both to this darkness. I want your eyes and ears on the ground though; if John does not succeed we have to cut him off." Greg nodded and left Mycroft alone to his thoughts.

            Sherlock was sure John wasn't home and that he wouldn't be back for at least good two hours. That was typically how long John stayed out whenever he left the flat in a huff after they'd had an argument. iI was like clockwork. Sherlock didn't like to shoot up in the flat because the danger of John discovering his relapse was much higher that way, but he was desperate for a fix. Desperate to make everything stop. He hadn't been able to leave the flat for long enough to get a hit in two days. Mostly because John was growing steadily more suspicious of what Sherlock was getting up to on his many adventures out of the flat that required John to remain behind. A shiver of fear ran though him. John couldn't know about this, he couldn't find out. No one could discover he was using again or his whole world would come crumbling down around him. He sighed as he released the torniquet. He’d taken two doses this time. Usually one would have been sufficient to achieve the desired effects but the withdrawal from his last dose had been so bad he’d been almost shaking. If John saw him shaking he'd definitely know something was wrong, so he'd needed two.

            Now blissfully peaceful in his drug induced state he lay on his bed completely still, once again his mind was quiet. No thoughts, no deductions, just pure, blissful nothingness. John meanwhile, hailed a cab back to Baker Street and barreled through the door of the flat unceremoniously slamming the doors to downstairs shut and locking them as he entered. In effect building an angry a wall between Sherlock and the outside world. He moved angrily around the flat ensuring everything was locked and secured while trying to find Sherlock and doing his best to hide his feelings. He noted there was a light on in Sherlock's room so he moved towards the door, pausing outside it to catch his breath and still his nerves. Sherlock's eyes were closed as he enjoyed the silence of his mind, which was all jarred away when he heard the doors slam. His eyes flew open and his heart began to pound as he realized the angry thudding footfall could only belong to John.

 

_Oh shit… Shit, John was home. John was home early, and he was angry._

 

            Sherlock panicked. He tossed the small kit he kept his syringes and drugs in under the bed, hoping the three doses he had left to use didn't shatter as it slid noisily under the bed. He strained his ears, listening as the angry footsteps thundered up the stairs, through the kitchen, and then to a stop outside his door. He shut his eyes again quickly, maybe if John opened the door he would thinnk Sherlock was asleep. That would be his safest option for John. John didn't knock; he just opened the door and charged into the room, his breath heavy in his chest. Sherlock could hear his angry inhales almost as if his eyes were open and he was watching them instead of listening to them. He could feel John's emotion bleeding off of him, he had no idea what the emotions were but he could feel a strange cocktail of sentiment that threatened to drown him. John had heard Sherlock throw something under the bed as he approached the door and paused to determine whether or not the detective was actually sleeping. With the door open and the light still on every movement Sherlock made was clear. John paused in the doorway and instantly he knew he wasn't asleep. He was high as a kite. He could see how his chest moved, how his body was tight, he could see every detail as if it were under a spotlight. 

 

_Fuck...._

 

            He'd seen it before at the clinic. He'd seen people like this but this was Sherlock and it absolutely wrecked him. 

                        "You awake?" He asked softly, biting back his anger but knowing Sherlock could hear it in his tone. Sherlock listened to the words and understood then that he knew that he was high. A stone sank in his stomach. His blissfully quiet mind couldn’t provide him with the details of _how_ John knew but it was glaringly obvious that he did. Sherlock considered his options for a few seconds before deciding it would be best to pretend to be fine. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to affect his normal demeanor as he stared at the ceiling.  
                        "You really should knock before you enter other people’s rooms, John." He said, trying to act calm, but inside he wasn’t calm anymore. He was terrified. "They might have company." He snapped.

            John was so angry and so very hurt that he didn’t bother to check his movements as he advanced on Sherlock. As he moved his usual softness was gone, replaced with a sort of violent despair. He rushed into the room and turned up the lights, before he strode over to Sherlock, grabbing his arms roughly and making him sit up. Sherlock let out a gasp as John pulled him up, his head giving a painful throb as his blood rushed around his body. The whole sudden movement giving him one hell of a head rush that he certainly did not enjoy. Nor did he like it when John turned him to shine the light in each of his eyes and he looked at his pupils, or when John yanked his hair back to check his temperature, doing his normal cursory medical check. He seemed to reach some sort of conclusion however as he suddenly threw Sherlock's arm away from himself in a fit of anger and stood. He panted, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to contain his anger before he moved back, crossing his arms and watching Sherlock closely.

 

_This wasn't going to happen. This wasn't fucking going to happen!_

 

                        "What did you take?" He asked in a low, dark voice. His voice shook just slightly, but it was firm enough to tell Sherlock that he was in trouble. The sound of John's voice was  plagued by the angry tears that were gently trying to fall and that he was ignoring. He told himself he would give Sherlock one chance to own his mistake, if he did then John would comfort him. If he didn't... Well then he was going to see a side of John he would never forget.

Sherlock shut his eyes for a moment before turning and trying to look at John properly. He was for the first time since relapsing, actually upset he could not deduce what John was thinking. He could tell that his blogger was furious. He read that much even with his drug addled brain only at basic functionality. However when John demanded his answer he swallowed hard, John couldn't possibly know he'd just taken something. Maybe he knew he was using again but there was no way he could know about the stash of drugs now hiding under the bed. He'd thrown it before John had entered, his brain didn't consider that the amount of noise the drugs had made as the wooden box slipped under the bed would give him away. No, John knew he was using but didnt know about his most recent fix. He considered just telling him the truth, finding it odd that the desire to do so just rolled easily through him. He mulled it over for a long moment before deciding that wouldn't end well. John would just get more angry and maybe leave. That would be the worst. If John left... So Sherlock decided it would be better to lie and make him think he was fine. Perfectly fine. Which wasn't really a lie, he felt fine. Or he had until John had come home.

                        "I haven't taken anything. What's gotten into you? Have you been talking to my brother? He's just annoyed that I wouldn't finish his boring case." Sherlock sighed wistfully as he lay back down and closed his eyes. He was trying to act like he would normally: calm and collected. John wasn't buying it and he let out a huffed breath.

                        "Your pupils are all wrong, your movements are slowed like you're moving through something thick instead of air, your words and reactions are slowed." John spat the words out like venom, ticking off each assessment as if it was some sort of hateful list. "Fuck Mycroft." He growled.  "And you know what? Fuck you," He spat viciously. He felt like he was going to snap. How the  _hell_  could Sherlock do this to him? Tears came more rapidly but John was completely disconnected from them. Almost as if he didn't even know they were falling. "After everything we have been through you're going to do this AND you're going to have the audacity to lie to me about it?!" He was torn between a fit of violence and a panic attack, his chest heaving rapidly as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to both shake Sherlock and to run away. "You selfish son of a bitch." John didn't check his words. He was far too angry and hurt to mind what he said. He moved over and grabbed Sherlock again, by the front of his shirt - shaking him slightly as if that would somehow snap him out of this. Sherlock's eyes met John's and his breath was sucked out of his chest by the host of emotion swirling around in the soldier's normally calm gaze. "What the _hell_ did you take Sherlock?!"  He shouted at him, his grip firm on Sherlock's shirt.

 

 

            He had been caught. And not just caught, but caught by John. By the one person he didn't want to know he was using again. This was it. This was the part he'd been terrified of. This was the part where John would decide to leave. It was over now.

                        "I don't have to fucking tell you anything, John!" Sherlock shouted right back at him. He was totally enraged by the language John was using. He pushed John away, making him stumble, as he himself stood on shaking legs. He had to leave. He _needed_ to leave, to go far away and never come back. If he left first he could pretend that John had stayed. He would go and stay gone. He didn't deserve to come back. He had disappointed John, upset him, maybe even hurt him judging by the emotion crawling across the normally calm man's face. He should never have come back. He'd promised to never hurt him like this again, to never lie and he’d betrayed that trust. He tried to solidify his mind as he stumbled into the living room and grabbed his jacket and scarf off his chair. However just as he moved to pull them on he was slammed into the wall by what felt like a solid mass of anger. "Get off me, John!" He shouted angrily. "Let me go!" He struggled but could not move.

                        "No, Sherlock. You're not fucking leaving." John growled darkly in his ear. He pinned Sherlock's arms behind his back, pinning him in a sort of reverse bear hug. Sherlock was not giving up that easily however and responded easily to the pin. John grunted as he was shoved back and his leg caught on the chair, sending him falling to the floor. He jumped back up and tackled Sherlock, knocking them both to the floor with a muffled thump. They struggled for a few minutes before he got the upper hand, wrapping himself around the detectives lean body and pinning him to the floor. "You're not running away from this! I THOUGHT YOU TRUSTED ME!" He screamed, he didn't care that Mrs. Hudson was downstairs. He didn't care who heard him. His rage and hurt feelings getting the better of him. "You damned fool! What did you take?!" He growled as he demanded an answer, his chest now moving rapidly but his hands completely steady as he clung to Sherlock. He growled ripping the jacket out of his hands and tossing it violently across the room. Sherlock snorted, he wasn't a fool. He knew what he was doing. He had control over his drug use, despite what everyone always thought.

                        "Let me go, John." He hissed angrily. It felt like he was in a straight jacket. "I am not going to tell you a damn thing unless you fucking let me go, you ridiculous idiot!" He shouted. Sherlock knew he was speaking without thinking, spewing hateful, hurtful words he would regret later. But that was what the drugs did to him, they made him stop thinking. "I took heroin. There I told you, now let me go!" He commanded as he struggled in John's arms. He knew at once that it was not the right thing to have done, John tensed so tightly that Sherlock swore he heard something inside the man snap.

                        "I'm the idiot?!" John yelled and it took all he had not to punch Sherlock in the face. "Why in the _hell_ would you take that?! Why would you go back to drugs?!" A few tears splashed down over them as John returned his grip to Sherlock's shirt and pulled him up. He threw him hard on the couch, making himself an angry wall between Sherlock and the doors. There was no way John was letting Sherlock out of the flat. Not unless he was dead. The silence stretched for a long moment as the two of them glared at each other. Both their chests heaving for breath, anger overriding their rational thoughts and forcing down the overwhelming concern they normally housed for the others’ feelings. Pure adrenaline and anger coursing through their minds and bodies. "And I already said you're not fucking leaving. You colossal prick!" John was ready for war and angry enough to forget how he felt for the person on the other side of it. As Sherlock was tossed into the couch the room spun violently, keening around him in a flurry of colors. He grabbed his forehead and shut his eyes. His stomach lurched and his anger grew. This was John's fault. John was ruining his high. His precisely calculated and rather expensive high.

                         "I am not a prick! I haven't done anything to you!" He insisted through gritted teeth.  He opened his eyes and glared at John, not caring that the man was crying at the moment. At least he hadn't cared until he noticed. Why the hell was John crying? John didn’t cry and he certainly didn’t seem aware of the fact that he was now. "It's none of your business and I'm not going to tell you so you might as well let me leave!" He stood slowly only to be pushed back down again by John's angry hands, "STOP FUCKING PUSHING ME AROUND JUST BECAUSE I CAN'T PROPERLY DEFEND MYSELF!"

                        "It's none of my business?" John growled, leaning down so his face close to Sherlock's. His arms pinning the detective on the couch. "Are you really going to say that to me? This is OUR house. You are my friend! I care about you! I've given up everything over and over again to support you and this is how you fucking thank me?! I waited for you!" His breath was short and shallow, threatening to overwhelm him with the oncoming panic attack but he ignored it. He grabbed Sherlock by the shirt again. "I'm not pushing you around because you can't defend yourself, I'm stopping you from hurting yourself more! If you leave this flat you lose EVERYTHING AND THAT INCLUDES ME!" He screamed his words at him, pure emotion spilling free but he didn't care. Sherlock needed to see, he needed to understand. His hands tightening on his grip on Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock looked away from John, away from that sentiment in his eyes. Because by looking at him, even high, it was clear to see how much he cared. Though John caring had never been the concern. That was not why he went back to the drugs. But he refused to talk about this, especially now and especially with John. He had his reasons for using and he wasn't about to tell John what they were. He couldn't tell John. If he told him the truth it would ruin things more than it already had. He shook his head and tried to push John away again. If John would just leave it would be easier.

                        "Let me go." He mumbled, his tone nowhere near as angry or as loud as before. The sentiment in John's eyes had cracked his anger and he felt it bleed away, along with the blissful nothingness. All sorts of dark thoughts and feelings steamrolled their way through Sherlock's head. As he spoke, he spoke in a quiet and pleading tone. "I'm not fucking going anywhere. Let me go so I can lay on the damn couch John! Or am I not allowed to do that either?" He asked, some bitterness in his voice. He finally slid out of John's grasp and lay down on the couch, curling up and putting his back to John. John let him go, shaking hard as he turned on his heels and stormed into the kitchen. He made an inordinate amount of noise before returning with tea for both of them and then stormed off into his room, returning with a medical kit. 

                        "You fucking insensitive prick." He forced out but his voice was quieter, shaking with his emotion.. "How much did you take?" His rage was not calmed by Sherlock's actions, in fact it was inflamed by them but he tried to calm himself. He rummaged through his medical kit, clearly looking for something. "Could have talked to me," He muttered under his breath, only bits of his inner monologue clear to Sherlock, "No, I'm Sherlock Holmes I don't rely on anyone," A pause as he lowered his breath, "No who cares what anyone else feels..." His hands were shaking, he almost couldn't believe it. He'd faced down killers, bombers, Moriarty, and Mycroft without trembling hands but now he was a mess. Sherlock just barely inclined his head to watch and even he noticed that tremor, but it confused him. What could be going through John's mind that would make him shake like that? "What are you feeling?" Sherlock heard the softness that crept into John's tone. That constant worry that haunted John, especially now. Especially since Sherlock had been gone. But as much as it made him ache to know that John was hurt he also knew he couldn't have gone to John with this. He couldn't go to anyone about his problems. How could he? No one understood his mind. No understood what it was like in his head. He kept his eyes closed as he listened to John rummage around his medical kit and continue to mutter little statements that betrayed just how hurt he was. When John repeated his question asking Sherlock how he was feeling it elicited a low chuckle, which seemed to enrage John all over again.  
                        "I was feeling wonderful until you came along and ruined my buzz," He whined. Now he had a god awful headache, his heart was pounding, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He clutched his stomach as he shut his eyes tighter. "I'm fine." He insisted, his back still to John. He heard John's sigh, that same sigh that always said: 'Why do you even bother to lie to me, I know better.' The one that made something in Sherlock's chest tighten and flutter. The one that crept into his bones and reminded him that no one else was as intune with him as John was.

                        "If you were feeling fine you wouldn't have done this." John's throat was tight, his words catching as he tried to force them out. "I'm going to give you something to take the edge off the drug and prepare you for the withdrawals. I'll have to go to the clinic tomorrow to get more as you'll need it while you detox.” He took a shaking breath but the firmness returned to his words. “This stops _now,_ Sherlock." He pulled a needle out of his kit and filled it with the medication, forcing himself into doctor mode. "I... I can't believe you feel like you can't talk to me." His voice betrayed how deeply he was hurt by that. "And I cannot believe you think this is funny." He wiped Sherlock's arm almost carelessly with an alcohol wipe and held his arm firmly within his grasp. He administered the medication without asking for Sherlock’s input, doing it whether he wanted it or not. Though he was somewhat mollified that Sherlock was compliant for the moment. He then stood and moved away from the couch, away from Sherlock, as if it physically hurt to be near him. "I..." He paced, not knowing what else to do but desperately needing to move. "You have the most brilliant mind  of anyone I have ever met, always racing around and trying to figure out everything about everyone, but when someone wants to help you... You just don't care. You push them away! Why do you even want me here if you can't talk to or rely on me?" He clenched his fists again.. His anger forced him to consider that this was it, that his relationship (whatever it was) with Sherlock was over. He picked up his phone and furiously began to type out a text message to Mycroft, his emotion getting the better of him. He typed:

 

_Sherlock took heroin. I gave him a dose of some medication to help relax him and ease him into the detox period. I am done. I'm going to leave Baker Street once he's clean again, he obviously doesn't  need or want me. JW_

 

            He didn't click send, he just stared at the words, the cursor blinking on the screen. He was uneasy and hesitating on the edge of his resolve. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with Sherlock for the rest of his days, but this… Sherlock didn’t want him.

 

_Fuck that thought hurt._

 

            He let out a violent huff of air, as if he’d been punched in the stomach and Sherlock watched transfixed as his brain tried to grind back into operation. He didn’t like the look on John’s face, he looked like he’d just realized something terrible.

                        "I don’t know who gave you the idea that I don’t want you here, John, but I would like to know so I can punch them many times for ever saying something like that to _you_.” He hissed, groaning as he buried his face against the couch. His stomach was turning somersaults and his arm felt sour from the injection John had given him. He closed his eyes as his head throbbed, pain giving way to noise as his brain began to pull itself from it’s quiet, nothingness. This was the part he dreaded, the part where the deductions slowly crept back in. It wasn’t a choice to deduct everything all the time, it was an instinct. It was as natural to him as breathing and he did it even when he didn’t want to. He had little control over it most of the time. As his brain kicked back into high gear he exhaled sharply, “Fuck.” He groaned as he realized that it was _himself_ giving John the idea he didn’t want him. He was giving him the impression he didn’t want John around because he didn’t talk to or rely on him the way a true friend would have. “It’s not you John. I can’t talk to you because you wouldn’t understand.” He snapped, it wasn’t a lie but it also wasn’t the full truth. “I’m not trying to anger you, I mean it. You wouldn’t understand. No one ever understands.” His voice was bitter, the acid of disappointment creeping into his words.

                        "You didn't even give me a chance to try." John forced out and there were definitely still tears in his voice. Sherlock pried his face out of the couch cushions to look over at John, groaning slightly as he did. The fact that there were _tears_ on John’s face seemed to confuse both of them. Sherlock couldn’t understand how John would be so moved by this to actually express sentiment in the form of tears, and John for his part was upset that he was being so flagrantly sentimental in the face of a man who cared so very little about sentiment. John set his phone down without sending the message, something of Sherlock’s words inspiring a very tender hope in his chest. He stared at Sherlock as silence fell for a moment and he raced back and forth in his mind between his emotion and his quick thinking medical instinct. "When did you eat last?" He demanded but before Sherlock could even answer, John had decided the answer and was already in the kitchen doing _something_. That something turned out to be him fetching a few pieces of bread and some crackers for Sherlock, which he set down on a plate near the couch. He then stalked directly out of the room and into Sherlock’s room, wrenching the blanket off the bed and bringing it out to cover Sherlock with it. Sherlock watched his sharp, angular movements of a man relying on military training and medical instinct to avoid the sentiment trying to overrun his mind. It was easy to see that John was pushing his feelings away. Trying to hide his emotion, because he was sure it was useless in the moment. Sherlock disliked how his face contorted with the effort and the effect of the pain he was feeling. "I need you to incline yourself slightly, Sherlock. Here are some pillows." He offered quietly after he grabbed the pillows from his arm chair. "You are going to have to tell me how you are feeling or I won't be able to help you." He stood there offering the pillows and trying hard to strip himself, at least visually, of the very deep betrayal and hurt he was feeling.  Sherlock didn't move. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall as John insisted on helping him. He didn't deserve his help. He had hurt John. Betrayed him even and yet John still thought to offer his help? No. Sherlock resolved that he should just lie there and suffer as he came down from his high. Endure the pain as punishment for his own actions.

                        "I don't deserve your help, John. Therefore I believe I'll keep how I am feeling to myself, thank you." He snapped, but John was having none of it. John moved quickly and expertly, eliciting a groan from Sherlock as he gently forced the pillows underneath him. Sherlock’s stomach turning and his head giving several painful throbs at the sudden movement. "Just stop, John, stop." He pleaded, his voice annoyed and desperate at the same time. He didn’t want John to stop but he knew logically that John should. John should stomp upstairs, fling all of his items in a suitcase whilst cursing at him, and storm out. But he wasn’t. He turned his eyes up to look over John as he spoke.

                        "You know already I won't, so shut up and do as I say Sherlock." John sighed and strode across the room to where his medical kit sat on the kitchen table. He rummaged noisily through it, tossing things on the floor as he did. "Damn it, where is it?" He sighed, muttering to himself. His face fully fixated on the task at hand. The tremors were gone, doctor mode fully engaged. He wouldn't let Sherlock see how much he hurt. No. Sherlock obviously didn't care. "And since you’re refusing to tell me how you’re feeling, let me put it to you this way, Sherlock.” He growled, turning back to look at him. Sherlock winced slightly as their eyes met. “You can either tell _me_ how you feel or _Mycroft_ can waltz in here with his perfect fucking surveillance and whisk you off to rehab. So you tell me, Sherlock Holmes, who’s going to be worse?" His tone betrayed him and it shook with grief, anger, and a deep sorrow. Sherlock felt his breath shaking through his chest as he saw the sheer amount of emotion that created the color of a sea during a storm in John’s eyes.

 

 _And to think I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me_... 

 

            John shook his head as the thought flitted through his mind. Determined to keep _that_ off his face.

                        "Since you won't tell me I will have to guess the story.” He snapped, treating Sherlock the same way he would a patient in the clinic. “You said heroin, I’m guessing to blank your mind. Likely stashed somewhere in your room as it is the only place that I don't know top to bottom. More than likely that is whatever you threw under the bed before I opened the door. I'm also guessing you are pissed as hell at me for giving you that injection but right now I could frankly care less. But I can promise you that whatever symptoms you are feeling are only going to get worse if you don’t cooperate with me." He sighed and ran his hand over his face, trying to cool the anger in his chest. "I will get you back to health and then..." His voice cracked, he turned away.  "Eat some crackers, it will settle your stomach." He mumbled over his shoulder. Sherlock's face was full of fear as he realized that Mycroft did know. Which meant Lestrade knew as well. Christ, well he was in a cage now anyway wasn’t he? The thought of rehab made him shiver violently.

 

_No. Not that God awful place again. No._

 

He listened as John told him how he was feeling and sighed. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he was rather wrong in consideration of Sherlock’s health. John was watching him intently, with a look that suggested he might walk out of the flat and never come back, and Sherlock desperately did not want that. So he picked up a cracker in a halfhearted attempt to show John that he was at least going to try and accept his help. He nibbled a tiny bit of the cracker and gagged, it tasted like dirt. He grimaced and set it down, toeing the plate of food across the table and curling up into a tiny, pathetic looking ball on the couch.

                         "My head is killing me, I feel very cold even though I know I'm hot enough to sweat, I feel like I'm going to throw up, and if I make a sudden movement the room spins." He spat out. There. That was how he felt. Now John had his tidy little list of symptoms to treat. He let out a soft sigh as he realized he had no choice but to rely on John in this. He couldn’t go back to rehab, that place was terrible. As he watched the emotion bloom on John’s face he realized that his decision that John was the lesser of two evils must have been visible on his face. It made guilt well up in his chest, he knew he was being childish and petty - his anger at John for costing him a high priced moment of peace overriding his logical mind - but he couldn’t help himself.

                        "Well at least you think I'm better than rehab..." John said softly, but his tone was disappointed, his eyes darkening as he turned away. Another stab of guilt bit at Sherlock, that wasn’t what he meant, not deep down. John sighed as he thought about the food situation. The crackers wouldn't work, he would have to find something else. He stormed off into the bathroom, loudly going through the medicine cabinet before returning. He was stomping, thrashing things about, and still just utterly tight with anger and it utterly confused Sherlock. “Sherlock, you’re going to have to listen to me and do _exactly_ as I say, otherwise…” He paused and bit back both the emotion and the words he really wanted to say. But they were clear on his face. Sherlock could read how he bit back: ‘Otherwise we won’t make it through this.’ John took a deep breath before continuing. “Otherwise you’ll feel really awful. I need answers, Sherlock, answers so I can make sure I am treating you properly.” He stalked upstairs, noting how Sherlock was shivering, and returned with his heating blanket. He plugged it in and draped it gently over Sherlock, turning it on. He then stalked into the kitchen and returned with an ice pack, which he gently slipped under Sherlock’s neck. His gentle touch and concern betraying how much he was actually worried for Sherlock’s health and wellbeing. "Unfortunately you have to wait a bit for the detox medication to get into your system before I can give you anything for the other symptoms. In a bit you can take some Dramamine for the vertigo and the room spinning. It will likely make you sleepy. So before then I need to know how long you have been using again, when you last ate, and how recently you dosed yourself.” He sank down in his arm chair, looking directly at Sherlock as he waited for his answers. He made a mental note that he should eat something himself in the near future, but sipped his tea. “Also, the warmth of the tea might help your stomach, but judging by the faces you made when you ate the cracker I wouldn’t blame you for ignoring it.”

He motioned to the cuppa near Sherlock. He was still fighting the waves of emotion trying to break free, the things trying to show on his face as his heart ached. The most important thing was for him not to cry, not to let out more of those God damned tears that he was so utterly connected to and deeply terrified of. Sherlock would never truly appreciate what he had done to John, not the sentiment of it. But Sherlock was trying to understand, he was trying to figure out why John would be willing to stay here and help him like this. Even with most of his brain active again it did not make any sort of logical sense. He didn’t deserve kindness from John, not judging by the emotion he was struggling against. As the blanket warmed up his shivering eased and he felt a bit calmer. He was still curled up like a child, however, the only shift he made was to fully change his position so he could face out into the flat - to face John. He turned his eyes to the floor though, unable to look at him. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see all those unspoken things that were flying around the room and sparked in his eyes when their gazes met.

                        "I ate yesterday, my last dose was an hour ago... And I started using three months ago." He confessed through gritted teeth, knowing that the result was not going to be good. John was not likely to be appreciative that for three months Sherlock had been keeping this secret. "I don't want drink the tea, but thank you for making it." He mumbled as he shut his eyes tightly. The floor was spinning and he felt like he was about to fall off the couch. He heard John's breath catch in his chest and it forced him to open his eyes again. It forced his entire attention onto the one man that could make him _feel_.

                        "Three months.... Christ." John’s voice shook and he couldn't stop the sob that broke free of his chest. He doubled over slightly and for one moment his entire heart was open and vulnerable to Sherlock in a way Sherlock had never seen before. But it lasted only briefly before John straightened up, forced out a rough breath, and again tried to shove the emotion away. Sherlock felt the guilt again as he realized what John was doing. Realized that John was holding in all his emotion because he'd never given him reason to believe it would matter. He’d never done, not even when he returned after St. Bart’s. But that single sob conveyed so much in so short a time, Sherlock's addled brain grasping desperately onto every detail it provided. His own eyes glassing over as he realized he was hurting the _only_ person that mattered to him. "In about a half hour you can take the Dramamine. I will ask Mycroft to get me the medical supplies I need to get you through this." John spoke very quietly as he continued. He stood and moved over, testing Sherlock's temperature gently with the back of his hand before sweeping through the flat once again. Sweeping himself back into motion to avoid the things going on inside himself. He closed all the curtains and dimmed all the lights. 

                        "I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered as he followed John’s movements. He wasn’t sure the words actually broke free into the room, but he tried to say it. He tried to explain to John that he really was sorry he’d hurt him. As the lights dimmed Sherlock’s eyes relaxed and the burning sensation he’d been fighting eased. He blinked slowly letting his eyes adjust and settle on John to truly observe him. He noted that John had wiped his tears away, but they were still staining his cheeks. His body language was rigid, military like, as he tried to pretend that he hadn’t betrayed any sentiment whatsoever. He was trying to be distant and clinical, things he thought Sherlock would want. It made Sherlock’s heart ache again and he tried to once more to apologize. He tried but the words refused to come out.

                        "Did you say something?" John asked quietly as he returned from the kitchen and set down a glass of water near Sherlock. His face was tight as the rage started to wear off and was being replaced by all of the feelings he was trying to keep hidden.  All the things that rattled around in his chest and threatened to destroy what little sanity he felt he had left. "I cannot believe that you trust me to shoot people who might harm you but you can't be arsed to tell me what's going on with you. There are plenty of other ways to distract your mind that don't end up with you in jail, a morgue, or dead in a ditch somewhere." He snapped, but much more gently as he checked to be sure that the doors were still locked and adjusted the temperature on the blanket. He gently removed the ice pack and a few minutes later replaced it with a kitchen towel soaked in ice water and wrung out, which he placed over Sherlock's forehead and eyes. He took a knee next to the couch, looking at Sherlock almost directly at eye level. He took Sherlock's wrist gently between his fingers, checking his pulse. "You're lucky I'm not someone else, Sherlock. Lucky that I don't just run away." His voice was soft, but clear. "But if you intend to keep using I need you to tell me now so I can leave before..." Sherlock listened the tone of John’s voice, to how his words still cracked with hidden emotion. He was too ashamed to even defended himself. He was the idiot. He saw that now. But he was only an idiot because he never considered how much this would hurt, John. He always thought he wouldn't get caught. He thought if he was careful enough John would never have to know and they could continue their life just as it had been. He was wrong and now John wanted to leave. Just like everyone else did.  
                        "If you want to go, go." He whispered darkly, his eyes closed. "I apologize for disappointing you." His tone became a bit more normal and cold and that part was a bit easier to get out because he was sure John was leaving. "Everyone always leaves," He mumbled to himself almost missing the shakily inhaled breath John took next.

                        "I don't want to leave, you idiot." The tears fell again and he didn't try to stop them. Sherlock’s eyes snapping open and turning to look him over. "But if you can't trust me to help you with whatever made you go out and buy drugs, then how can I believe you want me to stay?" His grip tightened around Sherlock's wrist, without thinking. He didn't consider how desperately he clutched Sherlock's arm or how needy the move would seem, he only wanted Sherlock to feel his touch.  "I don't ever want to leave you." The words just fell from his mouth before he realized what he was saying and his eyes went wide. "I..." He didn't want to take it back because it was true, but he was terrified of what Sherlock would think. He let his gaze drift down. "I'm disappointed in your choices, yea. I'm mad that you didn't rely on me or trust me. I feel betrayed. But I'm not leaving."

                        "You should want to leave," Sherlock snapped, his tone flat and emotionless. He tried to pull his wrist away from John but only because his grip was starting to hurt. "I betrayed you. I lied to you countless times. You should want to leave and never come back, John." His voice was strained as he tried to pull his hand back. John’s eyes met Sherlock’s. "John," He almost whimpered, looking at his ( _friend, flat-mate, lover)_   with pleading eyes. "You're hurting my hand." He sighed as John let go of his wrist, letting his hand fall to rest on the couch beside Sherlock’s. "You should go, that's what I deserve for all this." Their eyes were irrevocably locked and Sherlock wasn't sure he could stomach the amount of emotion that seemed to be passing between them.

                        "You're logic is infallible as always.” John said a bit coolly, his face tightening. “I'm sorry I hurt you." He whispered, looking down, Sherlock sighed in relief as their eye contact broke. "People who lo... Care about each other don't just leave when things get rough, Sherlock. They come back and fight. Try to prove to the other person that stupid things happen but they're still worth effort." His voice caught in his throat. "That's what you taught me. You could have left me here to sit, thinking my leg was useless... Feeling like I was useless. You could have stayed gone, started a new life somewhere else… But you… You came back for me." Tears were falling again, damn it... "I'm only going to leave if you're going to keep using and only because I don't want to watch you disappear." He looked at John with sad eyes. He was crying again, John never cried. Never in all the time they had known each other had he cried. Not even when he thought Sherlock was dead… And now he was a sobbing mess, because of him. He had done this to John. 

 

_What have we done to each other?_   


                        "There was nothing wrong with your leg, of course I had to show you that you weren't useless." He said simply. He looked away from John and back at the ground, breaking his mind away from the words banging around in his chest. What if he couldn't stop using? He felt like he wouldn't be able to this time. He relied on the drugs so much. They were like water and oxygen to him now. "I-I don't know if I can stop, John." He whispered, his voice cracking a bit because he feared he was going to lose John forever because of his addiction. Terror flooded John and he didn't try to hide it. This was his chance, he could cut and run - who would blame him? But there was fear in that voice. In that normally unaffected, unattached voice. John tentatively put his hand on Sherlock's arm very gently.

                        "Why do you do it? What do the drugs give you?" He asked softly before his heart got the better of him, "And do you even want to try?" There was a sort of hopefulness in John's words, like the desire to want to meant more than whether or not he was able to. He didn't let the hope fill his chest, because inside he was convinced this was it. The man he desperately loved and needed more than anything in this world was going to turn his back on him for chemicals. Sherlock, subconsciously leaned into John's touch. He needed the comfort. No one had been willing to show him comfort when he was like this, but John was. After everything he’d done, the lies, the betrayal, everything John was still here, still willing to comfort and support him. So willing to take another blow just to stay close to him. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to start crying as well. He could stay strong. He had to.

                        "They… They make everything quiet." He whispered. "It all goes away. I don't think. It simply just fades away. I can't deduce things when I'm high and I know that sounds like a bad thing but it's not. It's wonderful because my mind makes deductions _constantly_. It's an instinct, like breathing or blinking. I do it without thinking. It simply occurs. But when I'm high, that all goes away. I can just relax and not think about anything or deduce my feelings." He bit his lip when the last part came out.  Did he really just admit that out loud?

                        "There's other ways to quiet your mind, Sherlock." John's voice was almost breathless. He hadn't answered the question but his words tried to give John hope. He started panting a bit again, on the edge of a breakdown. "So..." He tried to make his voice even, tried and failed, spectacularly. John bit his lip, another sob trying to claw its way out of his chest.

 

_I love you, you bloody idiot!_

 

            The words wanted to be screamed, but he wouldn't let them. He wouldn't admit it if Sherlock wasn't willing to try something other than drugs. If he wasn't going to even try to rely on John to help.   
                        "So, does that mean you don't want to try something different?" 

                        "There's nothing," Sherlock said in a broken voice as he pushed all the blankets and ice packs away and stood on shaking legs. "There's nothing to make my mind shut up. It wants to think. All the time. And I can't stop it. It will just keep building things in my palace without me even trying!" He was almost crying with frustration now, he knew John wouldn’t understand. He was just like everyone else. He started to move toward his bedroom again, almost falling flat on his face. "You have a wing in my mind palace all to yourself! And it keeps getting bigger and bigger because I learn something about you, everyday!" He was headed for his bedroom to throw himself in bed, but his stomach turned again.   
            He ran to the bathroom and dry heaved into the toilet. Nothing would come out but stomach acid and it was utterly disgusting. His throat was on fire and he was crying now simply because of the pain. John followed him and rubbed his back softly, trying to comfort him. He sat Sherlock on the edge of the tub and taking a flannel he gently cleaned his face. He stood there trying to figure out how to help and without thinking about what he was doing he pulled Sherlock against himself, Sherlock's face level with John's stomach as he ran his hands through Sherlock's hair very gently massaging his scalp. 

                        "You can go to sleep when I'm near you, you told me that before. Which means your mind goes quiet sometimes when I'm close to you." John was still panting and still terrified of what would happen if he couldn't get Sherlock to fully accept his help. He dropped to his knees, holding Sherlock's face in his hands and making Sherlock look him in the eyes. "You focus on me when you need silence, when you need space... Don't think I haven't seen it..." His voice was almost pleading. "Doesn't that mean that maybe I can help?" His face betrayed his emotion clearly. It screamed  _I love you, we can do this, I can do this._ But his fear was heavy around them, making him feel like he couldn't breathe.

                        Sherlock kept his eyes closed as he panted. His stomach still felt awful but he leaned into John's touched as he massaged his scalp. His mother used to do that for him when he was sick as a child and it was the only thing that ever helped keep him calm. But when he opened his eyes to look at John, as John held his face he couldn't read the emotion on John's face. He couldn't read it simply because it was one he had never seen directed at him before. No one had ever looked at him with such _adoration_.   
                        "I… I don't know." He whimpered, shaking his head a little. "I don't know, John. You don't understand what my mind is like. Sometimes it never stops. For days. It's awful and usually I can handle it but now… It's just too much. It won't stop." He let out a small sob and hid his face in John's neck. 

                        "You think I don't see it?" He whispered, returning his hands to run through Sherlock's hair, tears falling again. "You think I don't see how you want your mind to stop? How you start snapping at all of us around you, deducting everything to make others suffer with you?" He trembled but he didn't pull away. "Why do you think I ask you to come sleep in my room when you're like that? My nightmares haven't been that bad for six months Sherlock. Why do you think I try to remind you about the little stuff like eating or bathing?" John's shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breath, as he tried to find some sort of hope in this situation. He could be brave enough couldn't he? Brave enough to try to show Sherlock Holmes that emotion was necessary? "I've been trying to help and you just don't open up to me." He wanted to shout, to scream, to do something  _anything_  to shake this man from this moment. But he couldn't, he didn't know what to say or do, so instead he felt like his heart was breaking. "I don't want to lose you..." He barely breathed the words, his voice tremulous. Sherlock pulled back and stared at John with confusion in his eyes. He honestly didn't know the answers to any of those questions, least of all the unasked ones. He could give one but it would be a very poor guess stated out of something similar to sentiment or hope. He shook his head, swallowing hard.

                        "I don't know why you do any of that for me, I've always tried to understand but I can never place it." He felt his stomach give another painful flip and he gave a groan. "I want to go lay down." He whispered, trying to move out of John's arms and failing. "Please, you can lay down with me." He offered, hoping that would make the doctor change his mind about leaving. John effortlessly hoisted Sherlock up as he had done so many times before and moving as slowly as he could steered him towards his bed. He moved cautiously, bracing almost all of Sherlock's weight on himself but letting him keep his feet on the floor to stabilize him. He set Sherlock gently in bed, hovering between the decision to lay down or to go. Maybe if he... If he said the one thing he was most terrified of Sherlock would listen. Sherlock let out a groan once he was actually on the bed. It felt better to be laying down but his head still throbbed and his stomach still felt as if was going to explode.

                        "Sherlock, I..." His breath hitched again, making him pant. He sat down softly on the bed before cradling the detective's chin with two fingers. Sherlock's eyes were clearly reading him as he searched his eyes for a long time, trying to steel himself to do what he needed to do. "I will lay here with you." He whispered, but his hand didn't leave Sherlock's chin making him keep his eyes fixed on John's. Sherlock watched completely transfixed as John's face changed moment by moment as he fixed his resolve to do something that Sherlock couldn't make out. "There's something I want to say to you, but I'm scared it will upset you. I'm scared of what it will mean especially because I don't know if I can let myself feel it if you're going to keep using, but it's killing me to keep it bottled inside _my heart_." With those two words he brought all of his focus was on John. The man he had been struggling to place in his mind palace. Friend or lover? That's why he went back to drugs. He couldn't understand his feelings for John and not thinking about them was just so much easier.  
                        "John, you can tell me anything. I promise I won't do anything rash." He rubbed John's knee, trying to be comforting but lacking in any idea about how to properly provide comfort in the moment. He wanted to try though. In fact it was almost a desperate need to comfort the wounded soldier before him. He knew that he was the one hurting him and he wanted to fix that. He wanted to help him.

                        "I love you." John forced out, almost wincing with the quickness he'd said it, at how easy it had been to admit it. "That's why this hurts so much." The tears again, damn it he was not used to feeling this much all at once. His breath was pronounced, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. His eyes looked wild but afraid as he bore his heart, his whole truth, to Sherlock. Maybe Sherlock would regret all of this when he was sober again, maybe he'd run away or tease John; but whatever happened then he had to get it out of himself now or he was going to explode. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and John watched as the words burned trails through his mind, igniting the fuses of thousands of thoughts. But he was convinced that he could make Sherlock stop thinking, that he could replace what the drugs gave Sherlock. And he had to know if he was right. "Stop thinking." He commanded and he pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, letting their lips meet for the first time. Sherlock had been on the verge of protesting. He couldn’t stop thinking, that was utterly impossible. Especially now. He’d never been in love, what was love? He needed to understand. Were the feelings he felt for John love or was it just fondness...

            But suddenly all of his thinking stopped. His mind went absolutely blank as John kissed him. His heart pounded in his chest and it was amazing he could even remember to breathe properly. He’d never felt anything like this. He wrapped an arm around John to hold him close. Desperate for him to stay exactly where he was, their lips pressed together as thousands of useless words were conveyed by a single action. His mind was blank. No deduction. No worrying, no mind palace, just pure bliss. A sob choked and died in John's throat as Sherlock wrapped around him tighter. Tears falling as he deepened the kiss and kept kissing Sherlock until he had to stop to breathe. He panted for breath, his eyes burning into Sherlock's while his hand moved so his fingers shyly traced over Sherlock's mouth.   
                        "I can... Please..." He begged, throwing his pride out the window as he shamelessly begged Sherlock to give up the drugs and choose him instead. "Please, Sherlock..." He shuddered as a sob wracked him but the sound didn't come, it sputtered and died in his throat. Sherlock stared back into John's eyes. He was completely in awe, he had once again broken the strongest man he knew and he hadn't even mean to. John should never cry because of him. That wasn't right. Something in Sherlock's heart ached at the sight and he just nodded.

 

_How can he feel this much for… Me?_

 

                        "Whatever you want," He whispered unsure of what exactly John wanted but knowing that he was willing to give it to him. "Anything, just stop crying. Please." He brought a hand to John's cheek and wiped a few of the tears away. 

                        "I'm trying." He whispered, burying his head against Sherlock's chest. He was shaking slightly, his hands dropping down to Sherlock's shoulders and resting there as he completely surrendered to his emotion and the moment. "You don't need the drugs, you need me." His voice was still soft and though it was a statement it was also a question, a question he didn't expect to be answered. "I'll do whatever it takes, Sherlock. Anything at all if it will keep you sober." He shuddered again, trying to even out his breath. "I'll quit the clinic, I'll stay home all day, you can tie me to the bed, I don't care. Just... No more heroin." Sherlock eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Why on earth he would have to tie John to a bed? He began to stroke the doctor's back, unsure if that was even the proper thing to do but knowing some people did that in order to comfort others.   
                        "I-I'll try. That's all I can promise you, John. I want to stop. I do, but I can't promise that I'll be successful." He hated admitting that he was so weak but John needed to know the truth. "My stash is under the bed." He whispered.  

                        "Trying is all I can ask for." He whispered, shivering as his breath slowed. "Thank you." His arms relaxed slightly but he was still very tense. "I felt your mind clear when our lips met. I could feel it in how you relaxed. Is that what the drugs do for you?"

                        "No," Sherlock shook his head. "I've never been that… Blank before. Even when I'm high I still can think about some things but when you kissed me… It was like everything went away." He blushed a bit, he sounded so sentimental. He coughed, trying to clear his throat and return his voice to normal. "Thank you, for… Um… For that." 

                        "That's what feeling does." He whispered and looked up, pressing his mouth back to Sherlock's again. Taking the chance that Sherlock actually liked it. "Don't thank me, just enjoy it." He smiled softly. "Gods you can be an incredible idiot, but I love you so much it kills me.” John whispered softly.  When their lips met again Sherlock went blank. Sherlock closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the feeling of not thinking about anything, Well of thinking about one thing. Just John. And it wasn't like when he normally thought about John. It was just about what John was doing to him. How John made him feel. When he pulled away Sherlock blinked a few times, unsure why they kept separating. He blushed at the sentiment but there was soft smile on his face. “How are you feeling?" John whispered softly.

                        "I still feel sick to my stomach but my head doesn't hurt anymore." He said, sounding relieved.

                        "It's going to get worse as you come down. Whatever you need me to do, however I can help... Please let me." John didn't need to tell him, he knew how awful it was going to get. He had come down a lot these past three months. His headache was gone which was where most of his pain was so he was grateful, now all that remained was the cold feeling and the nausea. He was so close to Sherlock and his body was desperate to feel him, but he didn't want to push too far, too fast. Sherlock looked more and more confused every time John pulled away from their kisses and John couldn't stop his smile. "That look is precious, what's wrong?" He licked his lips, his tongue flicking over Sherlock's lips as he did. Sherlock shivered at the sensation, he had honestly never done anything like this before. He had kissed people, but never so intimately, never with their tongues brushing over each other, and never with his body reacting so strongly to the sensation.

                        "I-I-I just am wondering why we keep stopping," Sherlock said without thinking.                              

                        "To breathe." John grinned and kissed him again, pressing his body against Sherlock's. He wrapped one hand gently in those dark curls, pressing their mouths back together eagerly. 

 


	2. The Very Best Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is willing do to whatever it takes to help Sherlock - and he does mean whatever. But does he really know what he's getting into? Opening the door to Sherlock's previously restricted physical desires might be more than he bargained for. But they're both already addicted to each other's touch and desperate for more, so there's nothing left to do but find out how deep the rabbit hole goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues straight on from Chapter 1. It contains a lot of references to drug addiction, a lot of explicit content (read=smutty smut smuttness), and lots of bad language. Just as a reminder this story is really a smut heavy story with plot tossed in and is really for fun! And in case you were curious Sherlock/Lestrade are played by Cay and John/Mycroft are played by Holly.

"Breathing is very boring," Sherlock whispered his thoughts against John's lips. He continued to kiss John, moving his hand to his lower back and holding him close with a nervous shaking hand.

"But it's necessary." John replied softly, panting and pressing further into Sherlock. As Sherlock's hand slid over him and tightened the embrace he simply melted into him, groaning loudly and increasing the strength of his kisses - forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be angry.

"For you, I can hold my breath for five minutes." Sherlock said smugly as their lips continued to move together in a way he wasn't used to but was somehow very comfortable with. "That trick came in handy once, well that and the fact I have no gag reflex." He rambled the thoughts off as if they were simple conclusions in between kisses, just speaking aloud the thoughts that appeared in his blank mind. A dark look passed over his eyes and he muttered: "I really shouldn't have gave him head." John sputtered and broke the kiss suddenly very red.

_Christ, I wasn't expecting that._

"Wait, wait.. What?" John was definitely blushing and there was no hiding it. He had been completely unprepared for something like  _that_  to just come out of Sherlock's mouth. "You can't just... just..." Sherlock couldn't help but grin at the sight of John red and blushing. John usually wasn't the type to blush and it surprised him that stating such simple fact could cause such a reaction. John's mind had already taken off with the statement and he groaned in a definitely needy way. "Jesus you will be the death of me." He whispered, claiming Sherlock's lips again.  
"Don't worry, that was years ago." He assured the stuttering doctor. Then their lips met again and Sherlock found his hand moving a little lower. He squeezed John's ass with smirk toying at his lips. "I'm taking that sentence to mean you're enjoying this." John groaned loudly and blushed more.

"Yes well... I am but I... I never expected you'd been with a man before. I mean..." He was fumbling over his words, while trying to seduce Sherlock. He was freaking John Watson!  _What did this man do to him?_  "You know what I mean." He kissed him again, clawing him gently. "I never have been with a man. Only girls, but you... Well you're different aren't you?" Sherlock grinned up at John, he had never seen him so nervous. It was honestly quite adorable and it did horrible things for his ego.

"You thought I was innocent virgin?" Sherlock asked with a sly smile. "You're not wrong. I am a virgin. I've only given head to a few guys before." He confessed softly, not allowing the emotion of the statement to reach his eyes. "I've never had anyone do anything to me." He brought a curious hand to John's hair and ran his fingers through it slowly.

"Virgin maybe, innocent never." He laughed but then moaned softly as Sherlock's fingers ran through his hair. His eyes fluttered closed and he tightened his fingers against Sherlock's chest. "God that sends shivers down my spine." His voice was breathless, completely caught in the feeling. "You..." His face was still red but he couldn't stop his reactions. "You never seemed interested in having someone do anything to you. You seem more like..." He blushed again, licking his lip softly. "Like the one to want to be dominant, not dominated." Yep... Just like that he'd given himself away, proved that he'd had more than one night of imagining the aloof emotionless detective in compromising positions.

"I am," Sherlock murmured as he continued to run his fingers through John's hair, enjoying how soft it was, loving that this simple action made John shiver. "I've just never been with anyone." He replied as if it was a simple conclusion. He wasn't entirely sure how the topic had shifted to sex in the first place, but was enjoying the way it just melted John into a puddle of blushes and nerves. "How often do you imagine me engaging in sexual acts, John?" He asked with a smirk. "I didn't know I was what you thought about when you spent all that extra time in the shower." John's blood was boiling in his veins now and his blush deepened.

"Git," He whispered, trying to bluff his way out of the discussion but knowing he couldn't. "Don't lie to me, you know everything about everyone." He teased, still very red. "I uhm... Think about it sometimes." He offered but he could feel Sherlock's amused stare bearing down on him. "Alright! A lot!" He sighed softly, a bit in frustration. "More so lately. It wasn't so much in the beginning but the more I watched you work the more I realized I was drawn to you." Sherlock actually chuckled once John finally admitted just how much he thought about the two of them having sex. It didn't alarm him. It was new to him but it didn't alarm him. Sex didn't alarm him. No it didn't alarm him it just... Made him a bit nervous.

"I've thought about you that way a few times these past few months." He confessed, but then he was leaving out the part that was when his mind would start buzzing so loud he would have to another shot of heroin. "You're not mad at me anymore, is your sex drive that potent?" He teased.

"You what?" John's eyes opened and went wide as they did. He blushed more. He never would have guessed that he was part of all the noise in Sherlock's mind. "Wait..." He furrowed his brow as he tried to put things together. "Sherlock, did you start using because..." He shuddered again. "Was it because you started feeling something for me?" He asked it with no ego, almost with a tone of doubt. There was no way he could have been that important. He didn't believe it, but the question worked its way out of his mouth despite it. "I'm still really pissed off. You lied to me for months, you have been high while putting yourself and me in danger on cases, and ruining your health without even asking me, a doctor, about other options. But... It's hard for me to stay full of rage around you. You just look at me and smile or touch me or just have this look when you feel something and don't understand it that just makes me melt. You've wrecked me and unmade me. I'm not the same man I was the first time I walked through that door." He tentatively reached up to touch Sherlock's cheek, shyly. He was afraid of making a wrong move and scaring Sherlock away. Sherlock however, couldn't help but lean into that touch. It made him feel warm and... Well it made him feel a lot of things that for the moment were too advanced of emotional quality for him to name.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, and he meant it. Being unmade sounded painful and he never intended to do that to John. He felt his cheeks warm again as he gazed into John's eyes. He didn't want to answer  _that_  question. It was hard enough to admit he was feeling something, considering his personal opinion on feelings in general. But it was even worse to admit that those feelings were so overwhelming to him, so incredibly distracting and strong that he'd needed drugs to make them go away. Still, it would be wrong for him to lie to John anymore so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let John hear the truth. "T-That was why I started using again, yes John."

"Me?" His voice caught in his throat and he looked at Sherlock to read his expression. He was at a loss for words completely taken aback by the fact that he'd made such an impression on Sherlock that he'd hidden from his feelings by using. His hand slid so it completely cupped Sherlock's cheek, his thumb running over those cheekbones. "I..." He felt like he should apologize, he felt guilty. "I'm sorry..." He slowly blinked and lowered his gaze still absolutely confused by the strength of what Sherlock had said. He was just a man, and a broken one at that. "I'm not worth that." His forced out his thought, the words barely loud enough to pass between them. Sherlock frowned, an awful nagging feeling seemed to flood through his body as he felt emotionally wretched, something he despised feeling. Yet as John apologized for causing Sherlock to feel, his eyes went wide and his confusion deepened. This man made no sense to him... Well his emotion made no sense to him.  
"Why on earth would you be sorry? You didn't do anything wrong, John. You were just being yourself. You're perfect...marvelous, caring self." Nervously, he leaned up and brushed his lips across John's cheek. Trying to reassure him both that he was worth the effort Sherlock had put into avoiding his feelings as well as for Sherlock feeling them in the first place. "You didn't do anything wrong." John moaned softly as Sherlock's lips grazed his skin and looked up to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry that something involving me drove you to drugs. That I didn't figure out sooner..." He was stumbling and he stopped, his emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Instead he focused on explaining what he was feeling. What Sherlock was doing to him. "It feels like tiny electric sparks run through me when you touch me. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I do." He pushed his fingers through Sherlock's hair again, keeping him focused on the sensations of the positive things.

"B-But it wasn't your fault." Sherlock whispered but he stopped talking about it as soon John began talking about how his touch affected him. "I like when you touch me," Sherlock said softly, closing his eyes once he felt John's hands in his hair. "I-I can't even begin to explain what you do to me John, it confuses me but I know I enjoy it." John blushed and licked his lips softly at that revelation.

"That knowledge may be the best gift anyone has ever given me." He whispered and leaned forward, trailing soft kisses over Sherlock's face. "Feeling only confuses you because you try to think about it, and you can't do that. They're different." He massaged Sherlock's scalp enjoying the feel of those curls between his fingers. Sherlock let his eyes close, his mind was starting to feel very blank again.

"It's hard not think, John." He whispered as he now leaned into his touches, John responding easily as Sherlock's simple movements demanded more of his touch. "Telling me not to makes me think about not thinking. It's like that Elephant saying." He babbled on. "When I say, don't think about Elephants, what do you think about?" He looked at John curiously, awaiting the obvious answer. He smiled softly as John's face betrayed the obvious answer. "It's hard to just stop thinking."

"Then I will just have to work harder." John whispered and kissed down over Sherlock's jaw and onto his neck. He heard his phone chime in the other room, knowing it was Mycroft or Lestrade but he didn't move instead he focused his attention twice as intently. His hands now running over Sherlock's arms and chest over his shirt as he suckled on that gorgeous neck. "Talk out loud, Sherlock. Tell me what you experience." He whispered, his fingers finding their way under his shirt. Sherlock sucked in a breath, he had never been touched like this. Not once in his life and it was exciting and utterly terrifying.

"I...I feel hot." He whispered, hating how childish that sounded but there was no other way to explain the sudden heat he felt. "Or warm-hot-heat..." He mumbled, going through a list of words to find the one that fit the most. "I feel heat when you touch me, John." He said breathlessly.

"Christ that is sexy and adorable." John whispered against Sherlock's ear as he kissed over it. "That warmth is desire. The flash of heat as your body reacts to the touch of someone you care about, someone you love." He whispered, keeping his mouth close to his ear as his fingers gently explored his torso, moving upward across his abdomen. "It's how I feel when you  _look_  at me. You can just give me a look that turns me into a puddle. You know it too, you've used it on purpose and thought I didn't know." He licked the outer part of Sherlock's ear before gently grazing it with his teeth. "Just relax into it, go with the moment." He encouraged, one of his fingers tracing up the line that followed Sherlock's sternum.

"I'm many things, John, however adorable is not one of them," he insisted but he ended up letting out a soft whimper when his ear was kissed. That sensation was very new and it made his body feel like it was one fire. At the mention of love he shivered. Was that what this really was?  _Stop thinking, you idiot!_ He yelled at himself angrily. He let out a shaky breath as his back arched into John's touch.

"You're adorable to me." John replied simply, moaning as he felt Sherlock respond. He slowly extracted his hands and started undoing Sherlock's shirt. The more John touched him the more he seemed to relax, relaxing was what he needed to do right now which obviously meant John needed to touch him more. Another text noise sounded from the living room but John's attention was turned to his work. He licked his lips, his face betraying pure love and desire for the man before him as he looked over Sherlock to gauge his reactions. "Your ears are hyper sensitive." He whispered, returning to kiss and nip at Sherlock's ear, his fingers now finding free range over Sherlock's chest moving and pushing his shirt back off his shoulders and letting it fall. John was correct, he couldn't help but whimper and squirm while his toes curled as John nibbled on his ear.

"I-I... Christ, apparently they are." He panted, as he instinctively wrapped his arms around John. "It's...It's making me...feel...really hot." He whispered, not wanting to say where because he was far too embarrassed. Sherlock groaned when he heard that phone again, keeping him from focusing on John. "Can you go shut the damn thing off? Tell my brother to shut up." He begged. John could feel the heat boiling off of Sherlock's skin as he responded so very wonderfully to his work, he growled softly in Sherlock's ear clearly frustrated by the texts.

"Oh God, I will break the damn thing to pieces for making me walk away from  _this_  for even a minute." He nipped Sherlock's ear again before slowly extracting himself from their embrace and padding out to the living room to scoop up his phone.

_John, what is your status? MH_

_I'm not going to play games with you, John. Update me now or I'm sending over Lestrade. MH_

Christ, what a prick. John erased his earlier message and began to type his reply when the phone chimed again.

_You have five minutes to answer. Do not try my patience. MH_

_He's at Baker Street, he was using, he's detoxing now. I will stay with him and work on it. Agreement is he leaves the flat WITHOUT me and you and Lestrade step in. I need more supplies to care for him here. Please get me a detox kit and bring it by the flat in the morning. I'm not answering anymore texts tonight. JW_

He then decided that he should text Lestrade before he silenced his phone.

_Lestrade - he's here safe. News is bad but he's working with me. Don't alert the yard. JW_

He sent the messages, made sure they cleared and then silenced his phone placing it face down on Sherlock's nightstand before crawling back into the bed and returning right to what he'd been doing.

"Let's see where was I..." He purred against Sherlock's ear, one hand running up to Sherlock's knee and back down to his ankle. "Oh yes," He grinned and nipped at Sherlock's tender ear lobe again, groaning softly into it.

"Why must you kiss me there?" Sherlock asked but he wasn't complaining. He was actually giggling a little. "I'm really sensitive there and when you kiss me there..." He fumbled for a moment and then just gave in. "Oh, John, it's like I'm floating." He gasped, not even caring how idiotic that sounded because he wasn't thinking. He was just being. He didn't feel the need to stop and think about anything that was happening with John and it felt blissfully wonderful.

"I'm kissing you there because you like it." He replied, his voice humming softly in Sherlock's ear. "Because I am going to prove to you that every single touch I give you is better than anything a drug can give you. That I'm the one you've been waiting for." His ego returned full force as he spoke, trailing kisses down his neck and gently sucking on it. "Because I love you and I want to  _worship_  you the way you deserve." Sherlock blushed a horrible shade of crimson. Part of him felt like he really did deserved to be worshiped but that was his own smugness. Deep down though, he knew he didn't deserve to be worshiped. He barely deserved to have John's friendship. His behavior the past three months proved he didn't deserve it. He let out a whimper as John started to suck on his neck. Cataloguing the fact that apparently it was fairly sensitive as well.

"I-I don't deserve to be worshiped, John." He said, sounding breathless and small. But John moved and claimed his mouth in another soul searing kiss. Sherlock's eyes fluttered close as they started to kiss again because it was starting to take his breath away. These kisses affected his body and his mind in ways he never thought he would be susceptible too. He was sure he'd never find anyone to make him feel the way John did.

"You deserve far more than to be worshiped Sherlock," He leaned up and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, his fingers tracing small circles over Sherlock's abdomen. "You are perfection physically and mentally. You've simply kept yourself out of reach for too long. I forgive you." He whispered it, his lips brushing against his loves as he spoke. "I hope that you can learn to trust me."

"I do trust you. I've trusted you from day one, John. You did kill someone for me." He let out a soft laugh as their lips continued to move together. "You take care of me, you protect me, I've always trusted you because of that."

"I mean really trust me." He whispered, kissing him again. "Trust yourself with me." He trailed down so his kisses were now being planted over Sherlock's chest, a hum of satisfaction purred against his torso as John enjoyed the moment. "I know feeling isn't your thing, caring is a weakness, but I think you'll find I'm the exception to the rule Sherlock. I'm not like anyone else."

"Getting pretty cocky aren't we, John?" He teased his lover with a grin. The kisses to his chest didn't affect him too much, they were very nice but they thankfully didn't make him whimper or moan. He brought a hand up to John's hair and ran his fingers through his hair. "Cocky has always been very sexy on you, I cannot lie about that. The only thing sexier was when you pulled rank at Baskerville."

John groaned and looked up at Sherlock as he spoke, observing the look on his face as he did.

"If it wasn't the truth you'd have lumped me in with Lestrade and the others the second day you knew me." He grinned. "Yes, I remember you kept talking about that for awhile after we got home." His eyes burned into Sherlock. "It isn't fair the imbalance of power in our relationship." He giggled softly, already aware that Sherlock's single touch to his hair completely derailed his mind. Sherlock gazed down at John with a smile.

"I think we have a fair balance of power, just because we both like being in control doesn't mean we aren't willing to give it up." He winked at John before he sat up slowly. "For example, if you ever want to take control of me-" He paused looking absolutely violent, "If you tell anyone this I'll throw everything you own out the window and burn it-," He warned darkly before he continued, "All you have to do is tug on my hair, my scalp is very sensitive. Just pulling on it would make me beg for mercy...twice." He grinned again as he slowly started to unbutton John's shirt.

"You have it wrong," He groaned knowing just how much that information meant. "I can't believe I'm going to tell you this," He sighed. "Christ help me. I don't want control..." He flushed red as he looked up at Sherlock. "Maybe sometime I will but right now..." He twitched nervously as he fiddled with the blanket, finally tearing his eyes away from Sherlock's curious gaze. "I'm always mentally at your beck and call, under your control in thousands of ways but never..." His breath was shorter as he responded to Sherlock's continued touches. "But not like this." He didn't move, letting Sherlock do what he wanted. "It's horrible I know. It's part of why I liked the military, being ordered about... I liked pulling rank but I liked that there was always someone higher up than me. Out here in this life, I see that person as you..." Sherlock's eyes went wide he had no idea he had that sort of effect on John. And it was honestly far too exciting. His heart began to pound with lust but he tried to stay calm. He swallowed hard and tried to remember how he was  _supposed_  to react to news like this. Ripping John's clothes off, throwing him down over the bed, and shagging him senseless was bad. He knew that was bad.

"Christ, don't tell me things like that anymore, okay?" He almost begged, trying to maintain his control. "Not unless you want me to use that information in ways you are ill prepared for. Because  _God_ John, I want to. I want to just rip your clothes off and order you about."

"Oh God," John whimpered and it took everything he had to stop the word, 'Please' from falling from his mouth but he couldn't stop his face from betraying how he felt. His breathing got heavier and his hands tightened on the bed. He could hear the need in Sherlock's voice and it shot straight through his body and made his own arousal skyrocket. His mind drifted imagining Sherlock ordering him to do things and he groaned needily. "What if..." He both started to ask and tried to stop himself. "If that's..." His breath was ragged. He didn't say it but Sherlock could almost feel the unspoken answer.

_What if it's what I want_?  _What if it's what we both want?_

"What if that's what you want?" Sherlock dared to asked, his own breathing rather ragged. He moved a little closer and the confession from John rushed through him. Suddenly he felt a bit bolder, so he moved as he straddled John's lap. "Is that what you want, John?" He asked and for once in his life he wasn't thinking about a single thing he was doing. Thinking had gone out the window with John's admission. "Do you want me to be Colonel Holmes to you?" He grinned, completely getting carried away. John was a trembling mess underneath him and it just encouraged him. "You will answer me when I'm speaking to you, Captain." He said in a low voice, growling and grabbing John by the hair pulling his head back so he could nip on his neck.

"Oh fuck," John barely breathed as his breath hitched in his chest and he just dissolved. Seeing Sherlock lose himself so completely in his desire almost made John orgasm just from the shock, "Y-yes sir," He forced out, his throat feeling stuck and his eyes burning up into Sherlock's, clearly begging for this. "Please..." He begged, panting for breath. "God please, Sir..." Sir. Christ Sherlock loved that. He adored it. He could get off on that so easily. He got off John's lap and grinned, plotting his moves quickly and carefully.

"Stand up." He ordered and when John hesitated just for a tiny second, "Move it, Captain!" He ordered and as punishment gave John a slap on his ass as he stood. "Stand at the end of the bed." He commanded and when John did as he was told, Sherlock chuckled. "Good boy," he teased but praised at the same time. "Now, I want you strip. Very slowly. I want to see you reveal yourself for me, one inch at a time. If you do it too quickly you'll have me to deal with." He warned.

_Fuck..._

John's mind was blank, empty and all he could think about was how desperately he needed this. His body ached with desire, having spent far too many nights alone in his room imagining what Sherlock would do with him. John's hands shook slightly as he undid his buttons, giving away how deeply affected he was.

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry I hesitated." He forced out, trying to calm his breath and his fingers. He slowly let his shirt fall off his shoulders and taking his time allowed it to slowly drift to the floor. He could feel how Sherlock's gaze burned into him, absorbing every inch of his body as it was exposed. He turned slowly around so Sherlock could see the whole of his back, before slowly undoing his pants.

God part of him screamed to break the rules just to see what Sherlock would do but he wanted to please Sherlock more. He wanted to hear him happy. In fact the need to please Sherlock was gnawing away at his gut more than anything.

_Please let me show you how I good I can be... No more drugs, just me..._

Oh this was perfect. Not only did John enjoy this, but he was absolutely loving this. It was clear in the way he kept saying Sir and apologizing like a good little soldier. He wanted Sherlock to be pleased with control of him, Sherlock could see that. He felt how desperately he wanted to give himself over to his care and Sherlock was practically high with that control. Sherlock wasn't thinking, his body making the decisions. Not thinking was dangerous enough when he was in control, but now he didn't care enough to worry about it. The only thing blazing in his focused mind was John. Sherlock quickly slipped out of his own pants, John just getting a glimpse of those tight black pants before they went the same way and Sherlock tossed them lazily on the floor. John was completely nude and Sherlock grinned as he looked him over, gently running his tongue over his top lip as he thought. When John moved to join him on the bed he raised a finger in warning.

"Now when did I say you could move from that spot, Captain?" He asked with a smirk, but his tone full of the promise of retribution if John disobeyed.

"Sorry Sir," John mumbled softly, lowering his eyes to indicate his submissiveness. "You are beautiful..." He whispered blushing some as he did. He slowly looked back up at Sherlock, his head turned down even as his gaze returned to Sherlock's face. He just gave in and just followed his instincts. He put his hands flat on the bed, palms down and assumed a military stance. Still looking up at Sherlock from a subservient head tilt when he spoke, "What are my orders, please give them to me Sir." He pleaded, shivering with arousal. Sherlock couldn't help but moan at the sight of  _his_  John being so submissive. He had no idea this sort of behavior was concealed inside this military man. A man whose nerves were almost stronger than his own. It was doing horrible things to his ego again, so he let it embolden him to proceed.

"Aw, why thank you, John." He whispered honestly meaning it, he lay back against the pillows, his body splayed out in front of John. He brought a hand down to his own hard length and began stroking it with a sly smile. His eyes completely focused on John's as he let his reactions to his own touch show on his face. "Your orders are to stand there and watch, Captain Watson." He said in a low voice, almost growling the words. He winked, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he knew this would drive John mad with desire.

_Jesus..._

"Fuck..." John couldn't stop the swear as his eyes were suddenly glued to every movement Sherlock made. His breath was even more ragged and his entire body betrayed how utterly aroused he was. He held his resolve watching with silence interest, but before long he couldn't hold back the noise and he started whimpering. "Please Sir, this is torture... Please use me..." He grunted, tilting his head down more. Sherlock was completely enthralled in the experience, he honestly enjoying toying with himself in front of John, watching John go from the hard commanding doctor to the whimpering, dripping, mess of a man in front of him. He smiled arching his back just to tease John more.  
"Oh, I don't know, John. I'm having so much fun here by myself just making you watch me." He stroked a little faster, moaning every now again to make it even worse for his lover. John grunted and his hips moved almost on their own, but he held himself firm. Maybe, if Sherlock had been thinking he'd be more generous but he wasn't thinking at all. He was acting on pure instinct and he  _loved_  being in control. John's breath hitched more, to the point he was almost heaving for breath. His entire attention fixated on the need burning inside of himself.

"Please Sir," He begged, his voice softening. "I can pleasure you too. I can bring you the pleasure you desire." He whimpered, his hands digging into the bedspread slightly. "Please use me..." He was gone, all he could do was beg and stare. He wanted this, it was almost painful but God it was exactly what he wanted. Sherlock sighed, sitting up and grinning at John. He was a begging mess and it was the sexiest thing in the world to Sherlock. John wanted  _him_  to use him. He wanted Sherlock to give him everything he really wanted. He was finally open to his own desire.

_Christ this man is incredible..._

"Alright, since you asked me ever so nicely, Captain." He said with a sly smile as he slipped off the bed and behind John. "I want you to lay on the bed." He ordered darkly into John's ear. "Hands above your head. And you better keep them there because if you don't I'm going to have to tie you up-" John couldn't stop the smirk that came, remembering how just a few hours ago Sherlock had asked why he would need to tie John to the bed. "Don't grin John that's a threat!" He said, trying to sound angry but he was chuckling. "Damn it, John. Quit making me laugh." He ordered, still a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry Sir," John said softly, but the smirk still played at the edges of his mouth. He moved as Sherlock asked, putting his hands up above his hand as if he was tied up and looking down at Sherlock with pure, burning desire. "I am in position, Sir." He said firmly. "What are my orders now, Sir?" He could not believe the things coming out of his mouth but the sheer desire on Sherlock's face was enough to make him do anything. Sherlock pretended like he didn't see the smirk on John's mouth for the sake of the mood as he climbed back onto the bed. He pushed John's arms up higher, trailing feather light touches over him as he adjusted his leg this way, then that until he was satisfied with John's position.  
"Now, Captain, your orders are to lay there and not move an inch. If you move in any form of way I stop, do you understand?" When John just nodded, Sherlock smirked giving a smack to his outer thigh. "Answer me out loud when I ask you a question, Captain!"

"Yes Sir!" John shivered and responded quickly, his body tense with anticipation.

_Oh Lord help me, I'm so gone_.

He was in over his head and he didn't care. Whatever Sherlock did to him would be amazing. He didn't care what it was. He watched his lover with rapt attention enjoying the feeling that he was so into John he could completely ignore all of the horrible things that were likely trying to crowd his mind.

"I am yours to command." He whispered it, knowing it would push Sherlock harder. "Please enjoy your pet." The word just dropped from John's mouth and he didn't even try to take it back.

"My pet?" Sherlock asked with a wicked grin. That comment blew whatever resolve Sherlock had left about maintaining control out of his mind permanantely. He was so deep into the desire burning in his own chest that he no longer cared about the consequences of his actions. He was living in the moment. This kind of not thinking was better than any high he'd ever experienced in his life.

John was right, he was better than  _any_  drug. "Oh, that sounds lovely." He murmured as he parted John's legs and spread them wide. "You are such a perfect little pet." He lay on his stomach between John's legs, his own feet touching the floor. "Doing whatever I say. So loyal, John." He hummed as he brought his lips to John's thighs and began sucking on them each in turn, cataloguing every minute movement John's body gave him. John already wanted to move, his leg twitching involuntarily as Sherlock's lips connected with the sensitive skin and it took all he had to maintain his muscular control. He held himself firm, his breath and his iron hard cock the only things giving away how utterly desperate he was.

"Thank you, Master." He whispered, changing his words again without thinking. To him that was what Sherlock was. The master of his heart and soul. "Oh that feels so good!" He whispered, still forcing his body to remain firmly where it was. He dug his nails into his own palms to try to keep himself from moving.

_"Oh Fuck, John,"_  Sherlock moaned, for the first time showing just how obviously turned on he was.  _That_  word, it did horribly wonderful things as it rolled through Sherlock. It made every high he'd ever had seem like a buzz. It made something inside his chest purr and roar at the same time. "Your Master is the only one that came make you feel like this, isn't he?" He asked darkly, bringing a hand to John's hard aching cock. He was rewarded by a soft gasp and a trembling intake of breath. He slowly started to stroke him as his lips moved closer and closer to John's sensitive balls. "Hmm? Has anyone else made you feel like this, John? Has anyone make you feel as good as your Master has?" John groaned again, his nails clawing into his palms more deeply. The sound of that baritone trembling in his sensitive body.

"Yes he is." He said softly, but clearly. "My Master is the only one who has ever made me feel like this. The only one I could ever trust with this. Oh please Master..." He whimpered, trying to keep his eyes on Sherlock but desperate to sink into the sensation. His doubt clawed its way back to the surface and before he realized it, the question escaped him. "Am I... Do I please you?" He looked down, a flush of shame washing over his cheeks.

"Oh yes." Sherlock growled, not being able to stop himself from giving a few thrust into the mattress. He wanted so badly to ravage this man, to claim him and his perfectly astounding and beautiful soul. "Oh you are absolutely beautiful, John. Such strong and sexy body. Smooth skin. Gorgeous battle scars. You're perfect." He practically moaned and he couldn't hold back any longer. He had to know more of John, to taste him. He took John's aching length deep into his mouth, all in one go. Showing John the benefit of having a partner with no gag reflex. He felt John's minute reaction, how he held himself back from bucking into Sherlock's mouth and both of them groaned at the shout that tore from John's throat. John cursed loudly, it had never felt  _this_  good to have a mouth around his cock.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" He groaned. "Master that is so good! That feels so amazing! Please don't stop, please!" Sherlock smiled as he watched John respond to his touches. John was being a perfect little soldier not moving at all, so of course Sherlock wouldn't stop. He hummed around John's length in response and gave his lover a wink as he continued to bob his head up and down. While he worked John's length he stroked his thigh. His own little way of praising him without actually saying anything. "Fuck, you are driving me mad!" He whimpered, clawing his fingers tighter into his palms. It hurt but it didn't distract him from wanting to move. "Master, I am so weak to your touch. Please..." He groaned Sherlock's name. Sherlock already had him teetering on the edge. " _Please_  may your pet cum?"

"Cum? Now? But we're just getting started, John." Sherlock said with small pout as he moved. Sitting between John's legs and stroking them. It was still so utterly incredible how John was just held together by desire right now. He smirked in a somewhat sympathetic and yet condescending way. "I guess I'll have to start fucking you now, since you're already so close. Teasing you later is going to be hard, John. You're so sensitive." John whimpered softly, unable to speak for the moment his mind completely consumed with the idea of Sherlock buried inside him. Sherlock easily slipped off the bed again and rummaged briefly in the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out the lube he kept close by. "You're free to move now Captain, but I suggest you remain where you are. Especially considering what I am about  _to do_   _to you_." He purred.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Master." John whispered softly, averting his eyes but his breath still ragged and desperate. "I haven't had anyone touch me in so long, least of all anyone like you so I am weaker today than I will be in the future. I'll do better, Master, I promise!" He said it eagerly, not moving an inch but desperate for Sherlock to give him everything. Absolutely everything.

"Aw, so sweet, John. You're precious." Sherlock said with a fond smile as he spread John's legs. "I'm not disappointed, pet. I'll show you how much of a tease I can be in the future. We both know we've been desperate for this moment for some time now, so I don't blame you for being so aroused." He kissed John's knee and poured some lube on his fingers. He watched as a small flicker of fear passed through John's eyes and he smiled. John spread his legs further, silently turning himself over to Sherlock yet again and it made Sherlock's breath hitch in his chest. "Now, first we'll need to stretch you. I may be your Master, but I am a very caring one who doesn't want you hurt." He purred as he slowly toyed with the tight knot of muscle, enjoying the small moaned and grunts John gave in return. He slowly pushed a finger inside his eye burning as he committed this all to memory. "How does that feel?"

"Fucking..." John gasped, sitting up slightly and then falling back against the bed. Sherlock was touching him, touching him  _there_. "It's good..." He whispered, moaning softly. "Sher _lock_."

His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth was parted with pleasure as he just sank into the various sensations. Images of Sherlock claiming him sent ripples through his body. "More, please Master... More!" He pleaded shamelessly. Sherlock could only watch John's body react with pure lust in his eyes. He'd never forget this. The way his touch made his lover look and sound like this. He brought a hand to John's chest and grazed a finger over his nipples.  
"More? Already? Okay, only if you're sure." Sherlock, grinned as he slid in a second finger. He thrust his fingers in and out of John, very slowly at first his own little way of teasing him. He was rewarded with tiny thrusts of John's hips and pure unadulterated physical responses.

"I'm sure." John moaned loudly, his toes curling slightly as Sherlock worked. "Fuck..." He whispered, beginning a string of profanities. He shook  _hard_  when Sherlock's fingers grazed over  _that_ spot. He'd never felt anything like this before in his life. The passion of it, the lust, the love... Sherlock's face was incredibly arousing as he worked, so focused, so intensely fascinated by every movement. Sweat dotted John's brow but he just moaned for more, it felt so good. A slight burn but it was so amazingly good. Sherlock suddenly went quiet as he settled between John's legs, his head resting on his thigh as he continued to work his fingers in and out of John. John knew the silence wasn't disapproval or something bad. He knew it was because Sherlock was absolutely enthralled and studying John's every reaction to what they were doing together. He wasn't thinking, he was just observing - taking in what John liked and what didn't work and committing it all to memory.

"You look gorgeous, John." He whispered as he stared at him with love in his eyes. Letting their game of dominance fall away and just enjoying the fact that he was going to get to claim John. That John was his and writhing and moaning because of him.

"Jesus Sherlock, that feels so fucking good." John's eyes opened and locked with Sherlock's. His breath shaking his body as it moved in and out almost by force instead of naturally. "I have never wanted another person so strongly in my life. I will never want anyone as much as I want you. As much as I need you!" His fingers tensed, wrapping into the sheets as he moaned loudly. Sherlock not wanting to admit he needed to be touched too, moved closer and grabbed John's hand. He placed those careful fingers in his hair and let out a soft sigh of pleasure as John caressed him wordlessly. He wouldn't ask for it, he wouldn't mention it - he was in control and didn't want to appear weak for being desperate for touch. John didn't make a single acknowledgement of the action, only sliding his fingers through those waves and over his scalp. He felt John relax again and slowly slipped a third finger into that tight ring of muscle, eliciting a gasp from John.

"Your skin is so very soft." John hummed with satisfaction. "Your hair too, it's that shampoo you use. The smell lingers throughout the flat..." When Sherlock added the third finger he groaned and pulled down on Sherlock's hair unintentionally. He realized almost immediately he pulled too hard, Sherlock giving a whimper. It hurt a lot more than he let on, knowing that John had not meant to pull, but it still left a throbbing ache in his head. John let his hand slip down to Sherlock's neck clawing his way to pulling him in for a kiss that was half apology, half pleading question. It begged for forgiveness but the feel of Sherlock's fingers drove the look off his face. "Christ I don't care if you rip me in half, I want you inside of me. I want to feel you in me. I want to wrap around you." He pleaded, running his hands over Sherlock's scalp, trying to soothe away the pain he knew he caused. His eyes searching Sherlock's. "Please Sherlock, please fuck me."

"If that's what you want," he hummed, pulling away from John so he could grab the lube again. He moved on pure instinct, sliding down and coating himself with the cool lubricant and placing himself against John in one swift motion. He'd never done this before, with anyone. It was terrifying and yet he could tell he wanted it, no needed it as desperately as John did. He took a deep, slow breath trying to calm the sudden bout of nerves that rose in his chest before gripping John's hips and slowly pushing his way in. "Oh God, John!" He shouted.

"Please it..." John's words became grunts and noises as Sherlock slid inside of him. His breath caught in his chest and he trembled hard. "Sherlock," He said his name in such a soft, needy, desperate, and loving voice - less speaking and more like breathing his name. It was so  _pure_ it made Sherlock shiver. He pulled him down, stroking his hands over Sherlock's back and massaging his scalp. Trying to kiss him and wrap around him so Sherlock could properly claim him. The effect of pulling Sherlock down made him slide deeper in John and John shouted into their kiss. "Only you... Only with you.." He tried to make some sort of sense but his mind was blown apart. He was trying to say something romantic, something that would make sure Sherlock didn't run away from this moment, but his words were gone.

"J-John," Sherlock moaned sounding breathless and weak. He couldn't act smug and in control anymore, not when he was buried to the hilt inside the only man he could ever have sentiment toward. He was a trembling mess laying on top of John. "Oh God, you..you're so tight." He panted as he slowly pulled himself out, then slowly slipped back in. The movement sending ripples of sensation through both of their bodies. "Oh, John." He moaned a little louder, gripping his hips tighter. "Oh you feel amazing." He grunted and used John's hips to gain more leverage as John curled his toes into the mattress. John made purely needy noises as he pulled Sherlock's mouth to his own again, desperate to feel him. He pushed back against Sherlock feeling the pain turn to pure pleasure as his lover claimed him. As they claimed each other.

"Oh that's good..." He panted, running his hands over every inch of Sherlock he could reach, groaning at the feel of Sherlock's body pressing down on his erection. "Fuck Sherlock, yes there!" He grunted as Sherlock passed over that sensitive place again making John's hips buck automatically back against Sherlock's. John wrapped his legs tighter around Sherlock to pull him closer and deeper. Sherlock buried his face in the crook of John's neck, moaning and panting like an idiot but he couldn't care less right now. John was  _his_.

"John, Oh fuck, John." He whimpered as his hips moved faster into his lover. The moment pulling them both in and threatening to swallow them whole. He was already so close. He'd always planned this moment out more than this, hours of torment for both of them before crashing down through their releases. But he can't hold out. He's too sensitive. This moment was too strong for both of them. In a rush of instinct he wrapped his arms around John, and pulled him up. His hot length still inside him as he had John straddle his lap. "How's this? Am I hitting that spot now?" He asked, sounding desperate as he thrust his cock harder up into John. Moving on pure animalist need. "Oh God, you're even tighter this way, John." He wrapped his arms around his back bucking his hips harder and harder into him. John let Sherlock guide him but shouted when Sherlock's moved again, slamming his hips back against the detective's.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Sherlock..." He grunted, his nails digging into Sherlock's arms as he felt Sherlock tremble. John took over most of the movement, pushing down into Sherlock as he panted and growled and just generally melted into a hot primal mess. "Fill me, Sherlock! Mark me! Claim me!" He shouted as half a plea, half a command and his body clenched hard as he reached the peak of sensation and released. His hot seed landing on both of their chests as he kept moving, desperate to bring Sherlock his first release like this. Sherlock had never felt anything like this before. He was shaking as he tried his best to thrust back into John.

"J-John." He whimpered, biting onto his neck without really thinking about it. His hips started to move a little faster as he approached the peak of his orgasm, and when he felt John clench around him he let out a loud moan and started to fuck him even harder. He felt John clench even harder as his release came and it took Sherlock right over with him. He felt his own hot release spilling into John. He shouted John's name and he clung to him desperately as his body shook with force of his orgasm. "Oh fuck," he moaned, his hips still thrusting as he started to come down from the best high he had ever felt.

"SHERLOCK!" John shouted when he felt him bite his neck, he arched his back and dug his nails into Sherlock's back, absolutely wrecked. He fell back against the bed, holding Sherlock to himself tightly and groaning. He let his hands work their way into Sherlock's hair and gently massaged his scalp, wanting to prolong the all good things Sherlock was feeling and to keep his mind blank so he could enjoy the moment. He wanted to kiss Sherlock again but his hands were the only things responding to his mental commands, so he just tried to catch his breath. Lying there utterly wrecked against his lover as Sherlock collapsed against him. Sherlock's face still buried in the crook of John's neck. He could see the terribly purple bite mark he left on there and frowned.

"S-Sorry." He panted as he began to leave weak kisses around the quickly forming bruise. His grip relaxed on John and now he simply held him close as his length throbbed inside John. "D-D-Didn't..mean...to hurt." He couldn't get out many words so he just kept kissing at his neck. He slowly shifted his hips so his now soft cock slid out of John, both of them letting out a soft sigh as they came apart.

"S'okay." John replied softly, trying to calm Sherlock with his touch. "It felt pretty good, 'sides now everyone'll know I'm owned right?" He laughed very softly, nuzzling his nose into Sherlock's hair and smelling it. He felt warm and happy and hopeful. "Seems like you like that, huhn?" He said it in a way it was clear he meant everything they had done. "Mastering the old soldier." Sherlock felt his cheeks warm, slightly embarrassed by how he behaved.

"Is that okay? That I like doing that?" He asked nervously, kissing John's ear lobe. "I'm...I'm sorry for smacking you so much, I wasn't thinking." He confessed shyly. He hugged John close but not too hard. "I wasn't thinking at all you really should have stopped me. I could have hurt you." A sternness was creeping back into Sherlock's voice and John groaned not wanting to lose the moment.

"Sherlock you couldn't hurt me without my permission. I would have stopped you." He kept nuzzling his nose into  _that_  hair, inhaling that scent. "It is okay. I loved it. You're the only one I could ever trust with this side of me." He blushed as he whispered the truth into Sherlock's ear, groaning at the kisses on his ear. "I'm sorry I pulled your hair so hard, I couldn't control myself." He smoothed his hands over Sherlock's skin, sighing happily. "Thank you..." He whispered, ignoring the tear that fell. "For letting me in... We'll get through this Sherlock. Together."

"It's okay," Sherlock whispered. "I know you didn't mean to. It just sort of shocked me because I wasn't sure if you wanted to take control or not." He explained. He curled up closer to John, pressing their bodies together, their eyes locked. "Thank you for trying to get in." He whispered, moving his hand to John's chest and stroking it soothingly. "I-I..." He wanted to say it, to say those three words but he was worried he'd mess them up somehow. The fear flooded him and he closed his mouth and hugged John tighter. His voice died in his throat and he resolved himself to try again later, but John smiled.

"I love you too." John whispered, his hand finding its way to Sherlock's cheek and his thumb tenderly stroking it. Letting Sherlock know it was okay, that there was no rush for anything to happen between them. To just be in the moment. He let their eyes meet blushing as he let the words out into the open, knowing it would change everything forever as if this all hadn't changed everything already - but he was happier than he had been in a very long time. "You are so incredibly perfect in the most imperfect ways." He whispered with awed devotion, lowering his voice to keep the magic of the moment. "Everything you do is the right thing, the right thing that I need. It always has been." He blushed more, desperate to reassure his lover. "I want to protect you from all of this, I want to help you with everything from now on." Sherlock felt his breath catch in his chest. It was amazing, John knew what he was trying to say without him having to say it. Just like John always did. He loved John even more for that, he just wished he could figure out how to tell him properly.

"C-Can you help me get in the shower? I feel really cold again." He said, sounding disappointed that now that all that pleasure was gone that he started to feel the sensations of detoxing again. "I think I'm detoxing again," he whispered sadly.

"Sh," John whispered, rubbing his back comfortingly. He moved slowly, pulling Sherlock up into his arms and cradling the smaller man's frame to his own. He hurt a bit as he moved but not enough to stop him. "A nice hot shower will be good. You can take the Dramamine now too if the room is still spinning." He gently guided Sherlock into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet. He retrieved the Dramamine and the water he'd gotten for Sherlock earlier. He set them within reach before turning on the shower so it could warm up. "Well get you showered and then snug in bed. Once you're laying down I'll get the heating blanket and bring it in the bedroom." It was effortless for him to care for Sherlock, simply effortless and it made him happy to know that Sherlock was asking for help in his own way.

Sherlock just nodded at his words, he wanted to say something more. He wanted to thank him properly but he felt like if he opened his mouth he'd throw up again. It was horrible how quickly the feelings flooded back into his body, into his awareness. Withdrawal from John was worse than the withdrawal from the drugs because it made him experience the lows of drug use. He took the Dramamine without any argument though when he swallowed the water though it almost came back up. He covered his mouth and shut his eyes for a moment. Christ, his headache was back. Why the hell did he keep doing drugs if this was always the aftermath? It was a shame he couldn't just continue to have sex with John until this all passed. His mind temporarily drifted to the idea of the three of them locked in his room for three days before he heard John come back into the room, clearly having done a sweep of the flat to ensure they were still safe. He opened his eyes when John helped him into the shower and gave a small pout when it seemed John had no immediate intention of joining him. He reached out and grabbed John's arm pulling him into the shower too.

"Absolutely adorable." John whispered and helped Sherlock as best he could. Sherlock shook his head at the mention of being adorable. He wasn't adorable. He was anything but adorable. "You're thinking again," He whispered, seeing the look on Sherlock's face. was thinking again, wasn't he? He hadn't even noticed. John just made him forget about thinking all together. "It's alright, your mind isn't your own right now. I don't expect you to be your best." John fumbled about for the shampoo, not letting it show on his face that some movements hurt slightly. He slowly began to massage the shampoo into Sherlock's hair, as gently as he could - using the one thing he knew could calm Sherlock - himself. He Sherlock lowered his head some so it would be easier for John to reach but he kept a hand on his stomach and his eyes closed to keep from throwing up. He did not feel good at all. John's hands in his hair felt wonderful, but his whole body felt achy and sick.

"Nauseous again. That's why I'm not talking a lot," He explained with a deep breath.

"It's all okay." John whispered softly, moving to wash off Sherlock's body when he finished with his hair. "Just feel the warmth of the water and focus on me." Sherlock nodded, he could that that. That was easy. Focusing on John was almost like an instinct. It came naturally almost like breathing or blinking. He looked up and gazed at John. Just watching him, watching how his hands moved so easily across his body. How his hair even though it wasn't that long when dry, got in his eyes when wet. Sherlock brought a hand to John's hair and pushed it out of his eyes with a soft smile on his face. It was easier to ignore the pain was in if he focused on John. Though it made a bit of fear flutter through him as he slowly began to understand just how much John  _loved_ him. "That's it love." John whispered softly, startling him back out of his momentary thoughts. He finished washing Sherlock and then quickly washed himself. He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower grabbing Sherlock's towel and gently drying him off. "Are you more comfortable naked?" He asked him quietly as he dried himself off quickly. "Or do you want your robe?"

"Naked." Sherlock answered with a weak smile at John. "You have noticed I walk around naked in a sheet, right?" He asked as he watched John dry his hair. "I should think you noticed when we were at the palace." He teased.

"Oh trust me, I noticed. You have some balls showing up to Buckingham Palace with nothing on but a sheet. But then again you are Sherlock Holmes." He smiled and led Sherlock out of the bathroom and helping him into bed. "I'm going to go get the blanket and make some tea. Do you need anything?" He knelt down and retrieved Sherlock's bags and used needles from under the bed, his face relatively blank as he did so. He could be strong Sherlock was trusting him so for now he'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I want to try to eat something again." He mumbled but his eyes watched John as he grabbed the needles and bag from under the bed. Part of him wanted to snatch them away from John and run. But he kept himself content in bed by remembering what they had done together in this bed. By remembering what John had so willingly given him. His mind had been blank and it had been better than the drugs. He looked away from the drugs and got underneath the covers even more, using the action to hide the shame flushing across his cheeks. "I need you in this bed too."

"I will be right back, love," John whispered as a promise and leaned down kissing Sherlock gently. "I'll bring you something to eat. Do you want to try the crackers again or do you want me to warm up some of the egg drop soup from the other night?" He ran his hands gently through Sherlock's hair. "You're being brave for me, I hope you know I appreciate it." Sherlock felt a blush come to his cheeks but he leaned into John's touch without thinking about it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I think I'll try the soup." He added. It was a odd thing, he felt like he'd be sick if he ate but he knew for a fact that he was hungry. "I think just think I should try to eat something." He said this as he curled up on the bed, trying to wrap himself in the covers because he was shivering again. John went straight out into the living room and grabbed the heated blanket, returning and plugging it in. It was still warm. He positioned it over Sherlock, murmuring words of comfort to him.

"I'll be right back love, I'll just be in the kitchen. Yell if you need me." He picked up his phone and left the room. He moved quickly about, hiding Sherlock's drugs knowing it would be likely he would find them if he tried but intending to have Mycroft take them in the morning. He put the kettle on and poured some soup in a bowl making sure none of Sherlock's experiments were in the microwave before warming up the soup. He took the tea in the bedroom when it was ready and then checked his phone in the kitchen while the soup heated.

_So it was true. Pity. I'll send someone over with supplies in the morning. I shall be by to check in tomorrow. MH_

John rolled his eyes and as soon as the soup was ready he carried it into Sherlock on a tray.

"Can you sit up some for me love?" He set it down and moved to help Sherlock. "Is the Dramamine helping at all?" Sherlock couldn't help but wonder how much worse this was going to get. He already felt like shit as it was and he knew for a fact it would only get worse. He just wondered how. Detoxing was always different for him. When John entered the room with the soup, he tried to make his shivering stop but he simply couldn't. John had the vial again and syringe, he gave Sherlock another dose of the medicine and it took some of the pain away from the edges of Sherlock's perception. He was confused but couldn't focus enough to ask.

"Yes, Doctor." Sherlock said with a weak grin at John. He slowly sat up, taking the blankets with him but his head throbbed as he did so he winced. "The rooms not spinning but my head is still killing me," he explained. He also couldn't help but move closer to John as soon as he was in the bed. John was just so warm and he felt so cold even though he knew he must have a fever. "P-Please." Sherlock said, hating to even ask for help but he knew he needed it. He took a deep breath, his jaw twitching as he conceded his weakness. This was John. It was okay if John saw him like this. He wouldn't make fun of him for showing weakness, he never had. "I'm going to have to ask you to feed me, John." He pouted hating to have to ask for such a childish thing. "I'd do it myself but I want to stay wrapped up." He explained though he knew it was unnecessary.

"That's fine, I'll help with whatever you need. Here, put your hand on my leg." He moved Sherlock's hand, giving him something tactile to focus on. He made sure the soup wasn't too hot and got a small spoonful offering it to Sherlock. He didn't want to give him too much at once. "Here try a little bit." Sherlock felt his stomach give a flip and he almost pushed the spoon away, but he knew that he felt hungry, so he forced himself to try the soup. He swallowed hard and it was obvious he didn't enjoy it.

"It tastes awful. It usually taste good." Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. "I want to try to eat more." He insisted. Subconsciously, he began to stroke John's leg because it made him feel a little warmer.

"It may be the salt." John whispered. He put one hand to Sherlock's forehead to check his temperature. "We might have something else... I could make something."

"No, No, I don't think it's the soups fault." Sherlock argued. "I'm sure if I wasn't going through the detox from hell, it'd taste fine." He assured John. "I'll keep eating it, I need to." He insisted but to show John his appreciation, he kissed his cheek. "You're such a good, Doctor. Do all your patients get this much attention? "

"Not quite." John laughed softly. He continued offering Sherlock soup but only at the speed with which he seemed able to try to eat. His full attention focused on caring for him. "When you have come down lately, what symptoms have you had? Is that what was happening when you told me you had the flu last month?" There was no anger or accusation in his voice, just curiosity.

"Good, I'd be jealous." Sherlock said with a weak smile. He continued to stroke John's legs as his favorite doctor fed him. "It's different every time, but last month it was only bad because I got hold of some bad stuff." He explained with a frown. "I almost told you then because coming down was so bad."

"I wish you had." John admitted softly. "Do you want more soup? I didn't make too much because I didn't know if you would keep it down. How is your stomach?"

"It's a bit better but I don't know if I can keep anymore down." He admitted. Sherlock hated this all of it. Admitting how weak he was. "Thank you though, John." He whispered. His back started to ache and he winced. "I need to lay down again." He said before he simply slid down and curled up in a ball again.

"John can we have sex again?" Sherlock asked nonchalantly, in the same sort of tone one might use to ask for tea. "I felt perfectly fine when we were having sex." He offered as an explanation when he saw John raise an eyebrow. John giggled and blushed, setting the bowl down on the nightstand and sliding down to rest next to Sherlock.

"I've created a monster, haven't I?" He teased softly and after finding where Sherlock had hidden himself in the blankets he kissed him deeply. "Let's make sure you can keep the food down before we get you that active." He grinned and kissed Sherlock again, knowing that he would get scolded if he pulled away too often.

"I was a sex demon before, you just didn't know it." Sherlock answered with a smirk, but then they were kissing again and Sherlock went blank. He still couldn't put his finger on it, what it was about kissing John that simply made everything melt away from his awareness, except John. The pain, his thinking, his worries, all of it was just gone. His face hardened with sheer determination, he was not going to let John talk him out of this, sex made him feel better and they were going to have it again. "Fine doctor, I'm determined to keep it down then." He whispered against his lips before smirking as an idea came to him. "I want you to take control this time, John." He whispered and before John could object - "Maybe you'll like it. I can be very submissive, when I want to be."

"Shite." John cursed softly, blushing a bit. He decided that he would be able to tell if Sherlock was going to get sick, so he would consent. After all he wanted nothing more than Sherlock to not feel pain and it seemed like whenever John touched him Sherlock's pain went away. So he slowly let his hands card up through Sherlock's hair and pulled lightly several times, watching Sherlock's reactions to his experiment. "Not too rough then, but not too soft." He whispered an edge to his voice. "Tell me something Sherlock," He ordered, "Just what should I do to punish you?" Sherlock gasped when he felt John finally find the perfect pressure to pull on his hair and use it several times. That was a wonderful sign, John was eager to start again.

"Punish me?" Sherlock asked, his eyes going a little wide. "I haven't done anything wrong, Captain Watson." He whispered, a pout on his face as he wrapped his arms around John. "Why would you punish me? Do I honestly just look like I can't follow orders?" John grinned, realizing that Sherlock wasn't as observant of his own behavior in this arena either.

"Oh but you have." His grin widened and he nipped at his neck. "You didn't ask me if we could begin properly, did you?" Sherlock bit his lip, realizing his mistake. He couldn't pretend he hadn't done it. He was somewhat upset that he'd done it but he was also marveling that John had picked up the thread of their game quite so quickly.

"I'm sorry, Sir." Sherlock said with honest and apologetic eyes. "You should punish me." He nodded, pulling away from John to sit up. "How do you want to punish me, Captain? Do you want me to bend over so you can spank me?" He was trying to be serious but a grin wormed it's way onto his face, showing John just how much he was enjoying this.

"Oh I would love to make that little arse blush." John growled and it was perfectly clear he'd thought about it before. "But that's not what you need." He pushed Sherlock down gently, moving his full attention to his neck. He bit, suckled, and nibbled until he knew for sure it would be purple and he could feel Sherlock begging for more, begging for John to touch him more. "I'll forgive you this once. But trust me when I say I will put you over my knee if I have to. Don't move, if you move you'll be in trouble." He growled, moving to the other side of his neck and repeating his actions. He knew how much touching meant to Sherlock and depriving him of it was one of the strongest punishments he could give.

Sherlock let out a gasp when John pushed him down, he honestly hadn't expected this from John. All of the data he'd acquired suggested that John was totally submissive, especially where Sherlock was concerned. He'd imagined John doing this but once John confessed to desiring Sherlock to be his master, his  _ranking officer_ , Sherlock had deleted the images. But oh, how very wrong of him it was to do that because John was rather good at being dominant of him. He knew  _exactly_  what would frustrate Sherlock the most and he wasn't above using it again him. His mind was once again jarred loose of his thoughts and he moaned as John attacked the other side of his neck.

"Oh, Fuck, John!" He moaned through gritted teeth because the biting hurt a little. It hurt and then it sort of dissolved into a strange pleasure. The pain was a bit much though and Sherlock couldn't stop himself from gripping the bed sheets tightly. So John liked pain, that was an important piece of data to file away for later. John gently let his tongue run over the mark as Sherlock arched his back and Sherlock whimpered as he realized his mistake. "I'm sorry, Sir. I won't move again, I swear." He said, sounding slightly panicked.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." John whispered and kissed him hard. "You're forgiven. You must tell me if I hurt you. I can't stand it, to think I did anything to cause you pain." He pushed Sherlock's hands back into the bed, forcing him into stillness as he slowly ran his tongue down his chest. "It didn't hurt too bad," he assured John after the kiss broke, but at the order he nodded and said, 'Yes, Sir." He toyed with each of his nipples, exploring his body. Sherlock whimpered as John explored him, the feeling driving him insane. "You taste amazing. You're mine." He growled, his hand stroking small circles over the inside of Sherlock's thighs.

"Yes, always yours. I've always been yours. You've owned me since you walked into the lab in Saint Bart's." John groaned with satisfaction, a thousand questions rolled through his brain but he ignored them for now, knowing that this was not the time for questions.

"I'm going to use you to pleasure myself." He growled, kissing lower. He stroked Sherlock's cock hard. "Look at you, look how hard you are already. Tell me what you feel!" He barked.

"Oh, John I feel like I want you to fuck me," He begged, his hips bucking into John's hand because he was absolutely desperate to focus on this pleasure. His mind was completely blank of anything except the most primal instincts and urges and it was utterly perfect. He didn't just want this he  _needed_  it. This was better than the drugs ever were, he didn't care if John became an addiction. "Will you please fuck me, John? I've never been fucked before, don't you want to be my first?" Sherlock sat up slightly, looking down at John as he begged.

"God I do. I want to claim that sweet arse of yours..." John's voice was rough, his lust taking over. "But if you keep moving I'm going to have to deny us both the pleasure." He found the lube and slicked a bit over his fingers, toying with Sherlock's tight opening as he lowered his mouth down over Sherlock's length. Sherlock groaned loudly.

_Oh. Right. He wasn't supposed to move._

Maybe he wasn't as good at being submissive as he thought.

"Sorry, Sir." He whispered. "I'll stop moving, I promise." He swore but then he felt John's fingers at his entrance and it took everything he had not to buck against  _that_  touch. He gasped loudly, gripping the sheets tightly. "Oh God, John!" He moaned and focused on keeping his eyes shut tight, determined not to move. "Thank you for sucking my sock, Captain." He panted, trying his best to be submissive for John. He would have to do more research later, so next time he would be even better at this. A grin toyed at the edge of John's lips, he understood that Sherlock was out of his element and it made him absolutely giddy with ego. He didn't care about power anymore, all he cared about was making Sherlock feel amazing. He sucked him harder, humming as he did and enjoying how Sherlock tensed. He gently, slowly pushed his finger inside Sherlock - moaning around him as he felt how tightly he clenched around his finger.

"Fuck you're tight." John whimpered. Sherlock gasped, his back suddenly arching. It felt amazing and painful at the same time. It had been so long, but he felt his body should still have been used to it. He'd used several toys on himself over the years and he had one that he kept in the table next to the bed. But, his mind countered, he hadn't used it awhile. Three months to be exact.

"S-Sorry, I haven't..touched myself down there in a while." Sherlock confessed as a sort of apology for moving. John wasn't really focused anymore and he just let Sherlock off the hook.

"It's alright you can move but you are not to touch yourself or me until I give you permission." John purred, sliding the finger slowly back and forth. "You've wanted me like this for awhile, haven't you?" Sherlock nodded at his orders, relaxing back onto the bed and gripping the bed to make sure he didn't try to touch John in anyway. Which was becoming annoyingly difficult because as soon as he was told he couldn't he desperately wanted to.

"Yes, I always imagined you would the one to take me this way for the first time." Sherlock whispered, his face clenched with pleasure. John toyed with the tender opening slowly stretching it with one finger before adding another.

"God I want to. I want to feel you so tight around me." He groaned, bucking his hips slightly. "I'm so hard for you."

"Fuck me, John. I can handle it." Sherlock promised even though he knew it was far too soon. But he was desperate to feel John claim him. "God please just put your cock inside me, if I can take my toy without any lube I'm sure I can take you." Sherlock bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth.  _Shit_ , he did not just admit to John that he owned a dildo did he?

"Fuck you must be the hottest person on the planet. Here all this time I thought the great Sherlock Holmes wasn't interested in the areas of primal urges and yet he's been playing himself with a toy secretly." John groaned, pushing a second finger inside of Sherlock. He placed a series of soft kissed over Sherlock's thigh to let him know he was teasing and Sherlock blushed. "I want you ready for me. I don't want to hurt you. But I am going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you senseless." His voice was harsh, his breath ragged. Just like Sherlock he didn't just want this, he needed it. Sherlock was a drug to him and he was already addicted. The two of them were spiraling into a dangerous addiction to each other but neither seemed concerned about it. After all they'd already been addicted hadn't they? From the first case... "When did you start using a toy?" Sherlock moaned as his body was stretched by John and as he heard the unspoken words John tried to hide. John wanted  _him_  and for some reason that did things to him he couldn't explain. It almost gave him a buzz just like being high would. He loved actually being wanted by someone. No not just  _someone_  but by John it was even better. The thought rocked through Sherlock, he hadn't even known he would love it until this very moment.

"I-I always have." Sherlock confessed with a blush on his cheeks. "Since I was at University. I enjoy it." He looked a bit bashful as he lowered his voice and confessed, "I never thought I was going to have a boyfriend so I learned how to please myself." John almost melted and he gave up the idea of control in that moment, instead desperate to show Sherlock he would please him how he wanted to be pleased.  
"Tell me what to do. Tell me how to please you so when I take you no one else will ever be able to love you like I can." He demanded moving his fingers slowly then faster, spreading him gently open and pumping his other hand over Sherlock's length. "You are so tight with need..."

"Fuck me, John!" Sherlock begged so loudly he knew that he would be lucky if passersby in the street didn't hear him shout - but he didn't care. He  _needed_  John,  _now_."Please! Claim me! Own me! Make me yours, John, please!" Sherlock was a whimpering mess now so desperate to have John inside him that he would literally do anything to get it.

"God damn..." John grunted. His mind just went blank and the sheer neediness of Sherlock's voice made him groan. He slicked lube all over himself and crawled up to the bed pressing himself against Sherlock. John was panting, his chest heaving as his ragged breath rocked through it. He wanted to see Sherlock's face as he took him, to see what  _his_ lover looked like with him sunk deep inside of him. Sherlock helped him as he wrapped those long legs around himself and slowly, carefully started to push in. He wanted desperately to ravage him but he forced himself to hold back - to make their first time equated with pleasure not pain. Sherlock gasped as he felt John's length press inside him, his eyes fluttering shut as he clenched the sheets so hard he would be surprised if they remained intact and in place. It hurt but felt so utterly fantastic at the same time, it was completely different than he expected. He was gasping, panting, and trying to catch his breath. This was completely different than when he touched himself. It was incredible - sparks rolled through his body, burning the thoughts away as they went and leaving behind one thought:  _John_.

"I-I-I can touch you now, correct?" Sherlock finally asked John, his voice strained with lust and pinch of pain. "Please, John. I want to wrap my arms around you." He just begged. For the moment both of them lost their pride, their egos submitting to the pure desire that burned inside them for the other. The faces they put on for other people fell away and all that was left in the moment were John and Sherlock - two desperate lovers, two addicts needing their next hit.

"God yes. Touch me love, please." John begged, just holding still and grunting. He waited a few minutes before slowly sliding out and back in, moaning Sherlock's name as they both shuddered from the feeling. "Fuck that is amazing..." He fell forward, finding Sherlock's mouth and kissing him hungrily as he felt Sherlock's body draw him in deeper. Sherlock's arms wrapped around him instantly. He felt so warm. So firm and hot, and just blissfully perfect. Suddenly they were kissing again and Sherlock was utterly convinced: no drug was better than this. No drug could make him feel the way John did.

"Have you imagine doing this to me before, John?" He pleaded sounding aroused and needy. He was desperate to know he pleased John. "Am I as good as you imagined?"

"Yes, God yes." John groaned, slowly moving his hips because his body just shamelessly took over. "You're so much better than I ever imagined. There were times I couldn't get the thought out of my head, I have wanted this so badly..." His mouth claimed Sherlock's again, shouting as he slowly sped up. "You're so mine!" Sherlock grunted loudly as he really began to feel the pleasure. John's taut length gliding over  _that glorious spot_. The one place Sherlock had never been touched by another person.

"Oh! Oh, John!" He panted, his back arching a little. "I'm yours. I'll always be yours. Forever." There was a second of hesitation but it disappeared, he didn't care if that was the right thing to say. He wasn't thinking anymore, he was feeling - just like John told him to. "I want to be yours forever. No one will ever make me feel the way you have, John."

"Sherlock..." John almost whined his name as his body shook, moving faster. His instinct took over and he moved in so many ways just to make Sherlock shiver like that, just to see him trembling. It was addicting to know that he could make Sherlock so open like this, that he was the one who could make him feel this way. He murmured all sorts of sweet things as he kissed his mouth, jaw, neck, and chest still moving hard against the tightness enveloping him. "So beautiful... The way you move, how you look... God no one will take you from me... I won't let them... I love you." John whispered, nuzzling into his neck for a moment before pulling back to look him in the eyes. Sherlock moved his hands to John's face, bringing his forehead down so they would touch. He gazed into his eyes, hoping John could physically see how much he needed him. He moaned, not being able to stop himself as John kept hitting that spot.  
"I don't want to be without you. Ever. You're not... allowed to leave my side. I want you... with me, always, John." He panted and forced the words out between moans and kisses.

"I won't... I promise." John grunted, his whole body trembling. "I don't ever want to be anywhere else. I never have." He moaned Sherlock's name loudly, shifting their bodies slightly so he could apply more pressure to that sensitive spot as he thrust in. His eyes drinking in how his actions reduced Sherlock to instinct. "God if we ever leave this bed again, it will be a miracle." He smiled and kissed Sherlock hard, his tongue exploring Sherlock's mouth learning every inch of it.

" Who wants to leave?" Sherlock asked with a grin. "I don't ever want to leave this bed." He whispered rubbing his nose against John's. It was the most affectionate thing he had ever done. Sherlock's legs tightened around John trying to pull him even deeper. "Fuck- John I feel like I'm close." He panted. Moving his hands lower to grip John's ass. "Make me yours, John." He ordered. John groaned, one hand finding Sherlock's length and pumping over it as his hips bucked  _hard_ into Sherlock. His mind giving over to pure instinct and desire, desperate to bring them both over the edge.  
"Sherlock!" He growled, nipping at the skin of the detective's neck a little harder than before, but trying not to hurt him. "Mine!" He growled in a low primal tone as he claimed Sherlock's mouth, driving Sherlock to release. As soon as Sherlock's body gave way to the pleasure John tumbled over with him, shouting and growling into his mouth but not stopping his kisses. Sherlock lay there, his body trembling and his legs still wrapped around his lover. John's mouth was still on his and he tried his damndest to kiss him back but he had gone limp and boneless. His kisses were wet and sloppy now and he whined into his mouth. He had never felt anything so powerful in his life. If he had known John could make him feel like this he would have started doing this from day one. His toes had curled almost painfully and he slowly relaxed them as the two of them came down from the high of their releases.

"I'm yours. I'm yours, John." He panted in between hot kisses, his breath ragged and shaking. "Only you. No one will...even think about coming near me once they see your marks on me." He whispered, pressing their foreheads together again. John blushed as he realized what he had done and gently ran his hands over the marks to soothe them. He slowly pulled out of Sherlock but didn't move, holding their bodies together, desperate to prolong their contact.  
"I'm sorry if I hurt you." He whispered, pressing soft kisses to the love bites. "You make me crazy. I can't think, I just need... Need you." He nuzzled into his neck, humming happily.

"You didn't hurt me," Sherlock promised with a soft smile. He began to stroke John's back softly, kissing his shoulder and breathing in his scent. He blushed at the sentiment of it all but he nodded in agreement. "I need you too." He whispered.

"At the risk of sounding like a boring sentimental fool, I love you. I will always be here for you. No matter what. If you relapse again, if you get hurt, whatever it is... It might be hard but I will promise to stay." John sighed. Sherlock had been beginning to think about something but then John was saying all those wonderful things he needed to hear. He would be here. He would stay. Forever. He wouldn't go. He wasn't like everyone else. He'd stay here even if he fucked up again. Sherlock, so overtaken by emotion kissed John hard on the mouth, a hand finding his hair and stroking it softly.

"I love you, John." He said for the first time, and it was easy. Spoken just inches away from his mouth. He heard John's breath hitch in his chest as the words washed over him.

"Oh Sherlock," John whispered softly, kissing him again. He gently ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair before slowly, complaining as he did, pulling away. Sherlock grumbled as he did and tried to grab him and keep him close, but his arms refused the commands. "I'll be right back," He promised. " I want to get a towel to clean you up. Do you need anything before I come back?" Oh yes, Sherlock did have a mess all over his own stomach and spilling out of him. He almost forgot. He looked down at himself and blushed.

"No. I feel tired so maybe I can fall asleep before the pain sets in." Sherlock replied quietly sounding hopeful. He really did want to sleep. He feared he wouldn't be able to though. Whenever he was coming down sleeping was next to impossible, but maybe... Maybe with John here...

"I'll be right back. I'm going to make sure everything's locked up and then I'll be right back here." John whispered, trying to reassure him. He leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "I'll bring some more water so if you need more medicine tonight you can take it."

He didn't want to leave but he needed to make sure things were secured. He pulled on his bathrobe and sighed softly as he padded out into the main area of the flat. He checked the doors, making sure they were shut and locked - because something nagged at him and from now on people would need to announce themselves before coming into  _their_  flat. He warmed up some water and then moved into the bathroom to get a wash cloth. He set these down by the door to Sherlock's room before going to get glasses of water for them both. He entered the room and gently washed Sherlock off with the warm towel and then dried him so he wouldn't get cold. He readjusted the heating blanket and put Sherlock's water near him before returning the bowl and towel to where they belonged. Then with a quick trip to his room for his mobile charger he was back to stay. He plugged in Sherlock's mobile and then his own, dropping his bathrobe and then slipping back into bed.

"I'm here." He whispered softly.

Sherlock could physically feel himself fall more in love with John as he watched him take care of him so easily. Almost as if it was natural instinct to him. No one had ever cared for him, not like John did. Of course there were certain people, one of them being Victor Trevor, that would claim that they took care of him, but that wasn't the same. Sherlock shuddered, damming himself for even thinking about his ex-boyfriend/ex-dealer. He didn't need Victor now, he had John. Sweet, loving, and caring John whom he loved. He turned in bed curling up next to John and kissing his lips softly.

"You know my brother and Lestrade won't think you and I are a good idea considering my...state." Sherlock felt a pang of concern well up in his chest, but John laughed slightly and it relieved Sherlock to hear it.

"I am sure that your brother won't, but as I said earlier fuck him." John smirked as he cuddled closer to Sherlock. "Greg will get over it. Really at the end of the day he is only worried about you. He wants you happy. You know..." John smiled as he remembered. "That first night after you got in the cab he told me you were a great man. He really relies on you and that's why he was ready to jump to action just like I was when Mycroft showed us what he thought was going on. I'm a doctor - if I stay here with you and treat you then this stays private so Lestrade doesn't lose his consulting detective. Mycroft keeps his image a bit cleaner, and if we're very lucky we will get some peace from the world for a bit. I've never cared what either of them thought and I'm not about to start now." He gently rubbed Sherlock's back. "I will be right here. You can sleep and I promise that I will be here when you wake up."

"I know you will be," Sherlock whispered. His hand had found the back of John's hair and he was gently running his fingers through it while he kept his eyes closed. He felt so tired but he knew he probably wouldn't get a good night's sleep tonight. "I want to sleep. It's just really hard to after I come down. I'm restless, and even when I'm asleep I'm only half asleep and having these...awful nightmares." He hated the nightmares. They were more twisted than usual because of the drug use. Sometimes it was dreams of death, blood, knives, and hurting himself. Other nights it was John slitting his throat or Victor abusing him. He's never talked about those nightmares. Not with anyone.

"Maybe not being alone will help." John offered softly. He flicked off the light and gently slid down, keeping Sherlock against him as he got comfortable. "But either way, I'm right here. Nightmares or not if you need anything at all, wake me." He held Sherlock firmly but with gentleness, running his hand soothingly over his back. His other hand gently gliding through that dark hair, sighing softly at the pleasure of it. Sherlock nodded slowly, he could do that. If he had some sort of nightmare or felt like he was going to be sick, he'd wake John. It would be easy to do now because he knew John honestly wanted to take care of him, he'd thought that was the case before but now he had  _permission_. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Maybe for once he would actually have a peaceful night.

"Goodnight, John." He whispered softly as he slowly began to drift off.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." John whispered back, still running his hands gently over Sherlock but slowing then over time to let him sink to sleep. He kept his thoughts soft, focused on just being there for Sherlock but it took him awhile before he fully relaxed. He didn't quite catch the moment he drifted to sleep, but he slept lightly - hyper alert and aware so that if Sherlock moved he would be able to jump to action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please leave us comments or kudos! Chapter 3 (and 4-5) are written and currently in editing phase and hopefully Chapter 3 will be up by the end of the week. Good things are to come so make sure you check back for updates!


	3. Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock can't turn his mind off, all it wants to do is think about John in a way that he isn't sure he can handle, so he turns to drugs. But when John finds out and Sherlock's past comes back to haunt him will the two be able to navigate the minefield of detoxing, Sherlock's history, and their blossoming love without falling apart at the seams?

Sadly Sherlock didn't make it through the night without an incident. The first time he woke up it was around four and what woke him was his aching stomach. He felt all sorts of wrong, was covered in sweat, and John's arms around him made him feel like he was on fire. He ran to the bathroom and vomited the contents of his stomach and of course this woke John as well. John was instantly at his side, helping him as he could. When they finally crawled back into bed again Sherlock collapsed to sleep due to the pain and exhaustion. He woke less than an hour later though due to a nightmare in which Victor had stabbed him repeatedly for being unable to pay him. To Sherlock's embarrassment John had shaken him from the dream and asked who Victor was, but Sherlock wasn't ready to talk about it. It was bad enough he was having nightmares, he was not about to confess to having one that was so  _sentimental and fearful_.

"No one of importance." He'd muttered, dismissing it as John slowly grew heavy with his tiredness again beside him. He tried go back to sleep again himself but it was impossible. The fever and nausea keeping him awake. He was only too happy that John sank back to sleep though, and he took the time to study John as he slowly sank into a deeper sleep. He let his mind absorb every little detail, noting that John seemed a bit paler than normal but ticking that off as exhaustion, after all they had worn each other out. Sherlock had many opportunities to study his lovers sleeping patterns and was able to tell the exact moment that John sank into full REM sleep deeply enough that Sherlock could move without waking him. He grabbed one of the extra blankets and wrapped it around himself heading for the living room. It was eight now and the morning light trickled through the windows weakly, giving the entire flat a strange sort of feeling as he moved around. He lay down on the couch curled up in a ball sweating, shivering, and clutching a pillow over his face because he felt like he might be sick again. He was just starting to relax when he heard the door open and he looked up with anger as Mycroft entered. "How the hell did you get in?" He demanded and Mycroft simply held up a key. "You had your own key made?"

"He gave me one too." Greg said softly as he came into the room behind Mycroft, closing the door behind him. "Thought it would be best considering you started your habit again." Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying to quit."

"What the hell?" John growled softly as he heard voices in the living room and realized Sherlock wasn't in bed with him. He was worried until he heard the tones of those speaking in the living room,  _Mycroft and Greg_. He pulled his bathrobe lazily around himself as he came into the room, barely noting that they were standing in the doorway. He was mad at himself for sleeping through Sherlock's pain but he just padded over to the med kit, found the partially used vial and a new syringe, and walked over to Sherlock. His full attention was on Sherlock as he mentally ticked off the hours to be sure it was alright for Sherlock to have the next dose and determined that he was almost precisely on time for the injection. Followed by the Dramamine an hour later. "He is quitting." John said sternly but didn't turn his attention to them, instead speaking specifically with Sherlock. "I'm going to have to give you another dose, Sherlock. Are the symptoms still the same?"

" I'm really hot instead of cold." Sherlock answered focusing on John's voice. "But other than that, yes, all the same. Though the room has started to spin again." He closed his eyes to keep his vision normal. "They have keys to our flat, John. We're never going to get rid of them," He grumbled.

"Wait, did you just come out of Sherlock's room wearing only a bathrobe?" Greg asked with a grin at John. Sherlock's face turned a slight shade of red and John just ignored him for the moment.

"Our sex life is none of your business, Lestrade." Sherlock snapped but Greg scoffed.

"Well, sorry mate but you two aren't exactly keeping it a secret with all those hickeys on your necks."

"Alright, no more heating blanket then." John went and got some water. "Yes I noticed they were here. I'm rather angry about it, especially since I asked for a few days..." His voice was tense and his body rigid.  
"Well your lack of responsiveness last night was rather concerning. Are you quite sure this is a reasonable course of action?" Mycroft sneered.  
"Look Mycroft, no offense but it is none of your business what our relationship is. I have a patient to care for. Where is the detox kit I asked for?" He turned and glared at the elder Holmes.  
"Here..." Mycroft offered it. "I want an explanation Sherlock." His tone was low. "And I want you to go away. Sometimes we don't get what we want, dear brother." Sherlock replied with a smirk. Mycroft didn't intimidate him, not when he was fully clothed nor now while he was wearing nothing but a blanket.

"Sherlock, we want to know why you started using again, we care about you." Lestrade insisted with concern in his voice and Sherlock groaned.

"It's none of your business, I'm quitting. You two can stop panicking. It's done. It's over. John's going to help me through this so you two are not needed." He said firmly. Sherlock sat up to take a sip of the cold ice water simply hoping it would cool him off. He wanted them to leave, he wanted to be alone with John not on display in front of his elder brother and the detective inspector.

"Here love," John whispered stepping into the kitchen and returning with the ice pack. He slid it behind Sherlock's neck, making him stay in a reclined position. He gave Sherlock the injection and then stood, crossing his arms.  
"This is quite an inspiring show of affection but..." Mycroft started and John cut him off.  
"But nothing. I told you two he doesn't need to be ganged up on. He needs understanding and support. He needs to have someone with him to keep an eye on him and that someone is me. Whatever reason he had for using is his own. He trusts me enough to have opened up about his habit and that should be enough to be going on with. I told you I could help him and you seemed to have some sort of faith I could, so damn it Mycroft show a little decorum!" John snapped.  
"I do not believe that you are in any position to lecture me, Dr. Watson." His voice was laced with anger. "I do believe in any medical circumstance romantic liaisons with patients are frowned upon." Mycroft looked dangerous.  
"He isn't just my patient, he is my partner. He has always been my partner. You aren't helping showing up here with keys made and ready to drag him out. I have this under control and I would hope you two of all people would know that if anyone can help him through this it is me. After all I'm the one here day after day." John was actually shaking with anger. His words weren't meant to be so angry but they were like a slap in the face.  
"You are showing signs of exhaustion already. Are you sure you are able to attend to this challenge?" Mycroft's tone indicated a challenge.  
"I just need to eat. I forgot to last night. I am fine, he is fine,  _we will be fine_  if you give us a chance." John said firmly, his arms still crossed. Sherlock meanwhile was drowning his brother out, he'd learned how to tune out his voice years ago. He listened instead to John's voice as he argued with his brother. He couldn't help but feel the need to be closer to him but he honestly didn't want Mycroft or Greg to pick on them, therefore he settled on 'accidental' contact. He stretched out one of his feet and as he did it just happened to brush against John's leg as it came to rest just inside his ankle. He needed some sort of physical contact, that kept the pain away. But his concern was raised as he observed John red with anger. Whatever Mycroft was saying was truly upsetting him.

"You forgot to eat last night?" Sherlock asked in a shocked tone.  _Christ_. That was his fault. John had forgotten to eat because he had been too busy taking care of him. "Go make yourself something to eat, now." He barked as an order. "I'm fine," He insisted as John turned to say something to him. He clutched his stomach as the room gave a violent lurch.  
"You don't look fine, Sherlock. You look exhausted and ill, in fact you both kind of do." Greg said and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, I'll go make you something. Stay here with him." Greg headed for the kitchen but before he got fully in the room he turned to Mycroft with a smile, "Settle down, Mycroft. This is the most relaxed I have seen Sherlock when he's detoxing. Whatever he and John are doing it's working for him." When Greg was gone Sherlock looked up at his brother with a smirk.

"Listen to your boyfriend, Mycroft." He teased. He then almost groaned when John rubbed his neck nervously looking rather confused. Sherlock's attention draw to the multitude of feelings that ran through him thinking about  _that_  neck and those purple bruises adorning it.  
"Wait... Those two?" John asked Sherlock motioning between Greg and Mycroft. His mind seemed to finally register the feel of Sherlock's foot against his ankle and he understood what it meant. He moved over to the couch, sitting down and putting his hand on Sherlock as if he was simply checking his pulse but in such a way Sherlock would know he was offering physical comfort. "It's not your fault Sherlock, I forgot to eat because I was so focused on what I was doing. Just hold on for a little while and you can take the Dramamine again." John said it softly and then his hand simply drifted back so he was rubbing Sherlock's back unconsciously. He had forgotten Mycroft was even there for the moment.  
"They pretend I don't see it but they're obviously shagging each other." Sherlock with a snicker as John set down next to him. He felt himself relax as John placed a hand on him. That helped. His touched helped in ways Sherlock couldn't fully understand or explain. When John started rubbing his back he subconsciously leaned into the touch. He could see his brother eyes on them and he blushed, suddenly closing his eyes to pretend his brother wasn't watching him.

"Sherlock act your age." Mycroft retorted, but a slight red on his cheeks. "Just  _what_  are you doing for him John?" John grunted, broken out of all his pleasant thoughts by Mycroft's tone.  
"Taking care of him. Giving him the understanding and support he needs. The same thing  _you_  should be doing. Addictions are hard to break especially for someone like Sherlock. He needs us to be supportive and give him time." John snapped.  
"Where are the drugs?" Mycroft demanded. John looked torn, giving them to Mycroft would get them out of the flat but it would also pull Mycroft and Lestrade into further involvement. As soon as Mycroft asked Sherlock gave a long sigh, he knew exactly where they were because he'd found them this morning. Yes, he'd gone looking for them but he hadn't used them. He was considering using them because of the pain he was in but just as the thought formed in his mind he remembered John. His doctor would take care of him.

"Kitchen, furthest cupboard to the left inside the cereal box." He answered without thinking. John tried not to sigh but could not hide his emotion and Mycroft retrieved the box with disdain on his face.  
"I supposed John would not be able to hide them well." Mycroft offered as a reply.  
"I didn't try too hard. You try hiding something from a Holmes in this flat." John snorted with a bit of laughter but returned his attention to Sherlock, trying to play off his annoyance. "Is this helping?" He asked softly, not fighting the blush that rose on his cheeks, as he let his hands rub smaller circles on the detectives back.

"I didn't take any of the drugs!" Sherlock informed them all because he could see what they were thinking. Just because they were bickering with each other didn't mean anything. He could see it written on their faces. Their blurry moving faces. "I don't have to take them anymore, I'm fine." He said firmly, as if he was trying to convince himself. He shut his eyes again and took a deep breath.

His brain seemed to be working slowly, and it finally caught up with John's last question. "Yes, thank you, John." He whispered.  
"I don't know that I can stomach watching more of this." Mycroft scoffed and turned to look at his brother. "Sherlock if you so much as step foot out of this flat without Lestrade or John at your side I will ensure you go to the clinic. I will not toy with you on this. You have risked more this time than ever before. Be glad that John has such a high esteem for your abilities."  
"Don't be such an ass Mycroft. He is your brother. I will help him. I will always help him." John snapped and Mycroft looked slightly affronted.  
"I will send more supplies over later with Anthea. You two will likely need groceries and you will need more of the medicines." He offered softly.

"Oh go take Lestrade to a hotel and relieve some of that pent up stress of yours, Mycroft." He shot back at his brother. Why would he need more medicine? Sherlock sighed, how long was it going to be like this? Greg came back into the room, a tray filled jam and toast, some tea, and scrambled eggs.

"There you go, John." He said sitting the tray down on the table. "I would have made Sherlock something too but I doubt he wants to eat." Sherlock groaned.

"Never again," he mumbled. John took the food with a smile.

"Thanks Greg. I'm going to eat in the kitchen so the smell doesn't bother Sherlock. I will be quick." John wolfed down the breakfast quickly returning only a few minutes later.  
"Have the withdrawals started yet?" Greg asked curiously while John ate, Sherlock tensed and looked upset.

"No. I won't have withdrawals. I'm fine. I'm just coming down. This isn't withdrawal. Don't be stupid," He snapped the words off quickly and gave away his defensiveness as he did.

"Easy." John whispered to Sherlock as he returned to sit next to him. "The injections will help when you do go withdrawals, by starting them now it will be easier later."

"Sherlock, stop this. You are trying my patience. If your personal life is so off limits, so is mine!" Mycroft snapped angrily.

"Fine! Then don't talk about not being able to stomach it brother because I doubt you'll see me without John from this moment on!" Sherlock yelled right back but as soon as he finished his head began to pound.

"Wait, you told him?" Greg asked Mycroft with wide eyes and a blush on his cheeks. At the glare Mycroft gave him, he realized that Sherlock had deduced it and he'd just confirmed it. "Oh, Sorry." He mumbled.

"Jesus Christ," Sherlock groaned, his eyes closing again as he curled up on the couch. "I hope you're happy, brother, you've given me a migraine." Mycroft was very red but didn't speak immediately. Instead he watched transfixed as John managed to pry Sherlock out of a ball and kissed him softly. A strange look crossing his face as he watched John, completely red in the face, pretend that no one else was in the room with them in order to comfort and console Sherlock from his pain. His eyes flicked over to Greg's for just a moment before returning to watch the two before him.  
"Focus on me, love, not them." John whispered carding his hands through Sherlock's hair very gently.  
"I did not intend to have this discussion now, Sherlock. What happens in our private lives is that. But your drug use affects more than just yourself. Please remember that from now on." Mycroft sighed. "I believe it may be best that I leave for now. Sherlock, at least listen to that man. He may be the best of all of us." Sherlock did just that, he chose to forget about his stupid brother and Lestrade. They were already gone in his head. He closed his eyes and leaned into John taking deep breaths.

"Goodbye, Mycroft." He hissed lowly and he was thankful when he heard the pair leave. He let out a sigh as if now he could finally relax. "Kiss me again," he whispered to John desperately. John blushed but kissed him again, pulling him closer.  
"You can't yell at your brother, he is trying to help." He mumbled before pressing their mouths together again, moaning softly. Sherlock smiled into the kiss, his pain didn't seem as bad now. Not when John kissed him and held him like this.

"I yell at my brother all the time, John. You just don't want doing it now because I hurt myself," He let out a soft chuckle before kissing John again. "You can go back to bed if you're tired, you didn't get much sleep with me waking you up all the time.

"I can operate fairly well on the amount of sleep I got. You were supposed to wake me up if you couldn't sleep though." He chided gently, still running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Why did you come out here?"

"I couldn't sleep anymore and didn't want to keep you awake. I felt really hot so our rather comfortable embrace started to feel a bit like a prison. So I came in here to make sure you got some rest." Sherlock explained with a shrug. He leaned into John's touch with a appreciative smile. "I just wanted you to rest since we did stay up rather late last night." He gave a sly smile.

"Yes we did and I believe it to be your fault." John smirked. He kept his fingers moving through those soft locks. "So how I can I help you keep the pain away for today?" He asked it softly but his entire body hardened and he grunted as his phone rang. Shit he was supposed to be at work. He answered. "Hey, I'm sorry I can't come in... No," He emphasized angrily, "I have a family emergency." His anger growing as he listened and replied. "No, look I don't know how long I will need. At least a week..." He growled. "Then fire me, I don't care." He hung up and tossed his phone carelessly on the table, it clattered loudly as it drifted across the surface and onto the floor. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh as John so easily quit his job just to take care of him. It was mad and insane but it was also the nicest thing anyone had done for him. It was John all over, so easily throwing everything aside to care for him, to be there for him. But then John's look changed and he knew what he was going to ask. He flushed with shame and turned his back to John, curling up in a ball. Remembering that he didn't deserve the amount of adoration showing in John's hurt countenance. "How come you looked for the drugs?" John asked softly, not accusing but out of curiosity.

"I wanted them," He whispered feeling utterly ashamed of himself. He could hear John suck in a breath and he bit his own lip. He could almost feel John's emotion as he pulled in short, shaking breaths. "I was in pain, John. That's what hooks me in, coming down from the medicines is painful and you know how woefully miserable I am in tolerating any sort of pain." He sighed, curling up more tightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't take any though. It did take me a bit longer than normal to find them though, I have to commend you on hiding them, but once I had them in my hand the urge to use was terrifyingly strong. But as I stood there on the brink of the choice I remembered I had you and that above all I didn't want to disappoint you. Again." John moved his hand back to Sherlock, still comforting him as he tried to show Sherlock that it was okay for him to falter. It was okay for him to be less than perfect in this, though Sherlock didn't believe that to be the truth.  
"I'm proud of you." John said softly and pure confusion seeped into Sherlock's mind. "You could have taken them but you didn't. Thank you for trusting me even in that dark moment." Sherlock still frowned as he kept his eyes on the couch cushions, John was doing this all wrong. Logically he should be angry with Sherlock, not... What was that emotion in his tone? Relief? No that was all wrong!

"I wanted to. I almost did. I shouldn't have looked at all. Why are you proud of me?" He felt utterly ashamed of what he had done and he tried to convince John that he should be upset. After everything John had done to help him he'd just ignored it and gone looking for his drugs anyway. He recoiled away from John's touch but John followed him, not letting his hand leave Sherlock's form.

"Because you didn't take them, you stopped yourself. Because you are trying to change your habit to move forward from this." John ran his hands over Sherlock, trying to draw him back out of a ball. "You are fighting an addiction. Each step forward is a miracle, even if you step back. And regardless of how many times you stumble I will be here. I love you." Sherlock sighed softly,  _those_  three words. Those simple three words meant so much to him. They filled his body with warmth and were still doing things to him that honestly scared him a little.

"I love you too," He whispered finally coming out his ball to sit up and wrap his arms around John. "I want to stay clean, John. I do. I don't want my problem to get in the way of us."

"I know, Sherlock." He whispered running his hands over him as he held him close. "You will get clean. I will help, I'm not leaving. I promised and I mean it." Sherlock let out a shaking breath, trying to forget about his worries as he hugged him tighter, breathing in his scent. He still smelt like Sherlock's shampoo. Sherlock grimaced and shook his head.

"You're using your own shampoo when we bathe together from now on. You smell like me now. I don't want to smell me when I smell you. I want to smell you." He brushed his lips over John's neck. "When you get out of the shower, you use this aftershave that makes me want to ravish you."

"Again you mean." John laughed. "I need to clean up anyway. Maybe a cold shower would help you stop feeling so warm?" He offered, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck. "You do always smell amazing."

"No, from now on." Sherlock said softly. "I don't know if I want to shower alone anymore," Sherlock said with a smile as he wrapped himself from John. "We can try, I'm sure it would help some." He leaned close and pecked John's lips. "Thank you, so do you."

"Alright then." John smiled and slowly helped Sherlock up. "I can't believe you yelled at Mycroft without any pants on." He laughed. "Come on you." Sherlock leaned against John smiling as he heard the most wonderful laugh in the world.

"I used to do it all the time when I was a child, John." He told him with a giggle. They started to walk into his bathroom to shower again and Sherlock realized that taking a cold shower was good for him, but maybe not John. "You don't need a cold shower, John. You'll freeze."

"I can take a warm shower first if that would make you happier. But the water temperature doesn't get to me. When I was in Afghanistan it was take what you could get." He smiled but tensed slightly. "So I can handle it. I will need to retrieve some clothes and my shampoo though." He grinned and sat Sherlock down on the edge of the tub. "Will you be alright for a minute?"

"I'm not a baby, John. You can leave me alone for a minute." He promised his lover with a reassuring smile. Sherlock rested his head against the cool tile shower and closed his eyes as John left to get his things, enjoying the cool sensation of the tile against his skin. But he heard his phone buzz in the bedroom and it made him realize he hadn't checked his phone since the night before. On shaking legs he walked into the bedroom and sat down on the bed to check the messages. His heart stopped once he saw that all the messages he had were from the same person.

_Sherly, you still haven't paid me for your last stash. You better come and meet me today or I come to collect the old fashion way. VT_

_You didn't come, Sherly. I guess I'll just come pay you a visit. I'm sure you'll have my money then, oh, and I have some new stuff you might want to try. Has a one hell of a kick to it. VT_

Sherlock texting him back with shaking hands.

_Don't come here. I'll pay you later. But don't you dare come here. SH_

He peeked around the corner to listen for John walking back down the hall, in a hurry he sent one last message.

_I'm serious, Victor. You come here and I won't pay for a damn thing and I won't buy whatever you have. SH_

_I'll be over tomorrow, Sherlock. If you wanted to keep me away you should have really paid me in full a few days ago. VT_

John walked over to check that the doors to the flat were locked back, knowing that it wouldn't keep their friends out but it might deter Mrs. Hudson from wandering in and well... Well what? It's not like they had even tried to be quiet last night. He blushed thinking about it and wandered back to the bathroom.  
"Is everything okay?" He asked furrowing his brow, Sherlock looked put off by something.

"Hm? Sure of course." Sherlock replied nonchalantly. He sat exactly where John had left him, but he was paler than he'd been. He had read Victor's last message but hadn't had time to reply. He was going to have to figure out how to get John out of the house tomorrow. How without it seeming suspicious? Sherlock forced a smile at John. "You should get in the shower first. Take a nice warm shower and get clean. I'll sit right here and watch you." He promised, John crossed his arms. That was suspicious to be sure.  
"I can tell something is bothering you." John replied softly, his tone gentle but clear that he wasn't about to drop it. "You look positively terrified. Did something happen? Have the symptoms changed?" He knelt down checking Sherlock's pulse again. Definitely elevated... "Whatever it is we can handle it." Sherlock shook his head again. He'd tell John if he thought knowing the truth wasn't dangerous but he didn't want John anywhere near Victor. The man wasn't exactly rational and he carried a gun with him at all times. If John upset him with his temper... There would be no telling what would happen.

"I'm fine, really. I just stood up for a little bit and got this awful head rush, I'm fine though. I promise." He insisted, trying his best to smile at John. "Here, get in." He ordered as he reached behind him to turn the hot water on. John wasn't convinced and it gnawed away at his heart, but he decided to give Sherlock the space to tell him on his own. He set his stuff down and took his bathrobe off.  
"A cold shower won't bother me Sherlock." He said softly his tone giving him away. He tried to act normal but he was hurt by Sherlock's decision he still couldn't trust John with the whole truth. "I guess I will shave at the sink while you shower next then." He said quietly. Sherlock could see how he was hurting John and it physically pained him to hurt him, even emotionally. He stood and wrapped his arms around John, kissing his shoulder.

"Let's take a cold one then if you really don't mind." He whispered sweetly. "I'll keep you warm if you get cold," He added with a bit of a grin. John took a long slow breath and forced himself to act like everything was okay. I mean, he'd done this for ages now every time something happened what possibly made this different? Things could be okay even when they weren't, that was sort of John's new signature.

"I was surprised you didn't pounce on me in the living room as I seem to be your new pain reliever of choice." John smiled switched the water and as he held Sherlock to him, forcing the conversation back to a more normal thread. The cold water made his shoulder ache slightly but otherwise he was fine with it. "I love you and no matter what we will get through this." He whispered as he nuzzled Sherlock's ear. Sherlock closed his eyes and felt an ache in his chest that he absolutely hated. Guilt. He felt guilty for lying to John,  _again_. Even though he felt like his body was finally cooling down Sherlock couldn't enjoy the sensation because of the guilt clawing at his chest. He'd never felt guilt like this before, the closest had been the guilt at leaving John alone for so long after St. Bart's but that was to protect him, to keep him safe. This was supposed to be the same thing, why did it feel so different? He grimaced and hugged John tighter, drawing a look of surprise from John. The hug was clearly protective as if he was shielding John. Which in his mind he was, he was just trying to protect him from Victor.

"I... John do you trust me?" He asked, suddenly very urgent. It demanded an answer at once.

"Yes, with my life." John whispered softly leaning into Sherlock and rubbing his hands over his back soothingly. "What's going on Sherlock? You are more tense now than you were before I went upstairs."

"Tomorrow, I need you to leave." He hated the look that crossed John's face and he shook his head. "Just for a little while. Just go to the store or something. Please, you can't ask me why. You just have to trust me." He begged now gripping John's hands tightly. John slowly let his breath out, suddenly aware he'd been holding it, searching Sherlock's face. "Please, You have to." John was scared by the look on Sherlock's face. He  _hated_ seeing him afraid, it was so infrequent that when it happened John knew things were bad, very bad, and the look on Sherlock's face right now was pure  _terror._  
"I am not sure that won't set the guards on you but I will think of something to tell them so they don't rush here." He whispered softly. It felt wrong, his gut told him not to do it but he had to try to trust Sherlock. He had to try to show him that he wouldn't coddle him like the others. "I can go down to the cafe or something..." It bothered him that Sherlock wouldn't tell him what was going on, he felt a gnawing ache in his stomach that Sherlock was putting himself in danger but he desperately needed him to stop looking so afraid. He tightened his arms around the detective pressing their bodies together. "I'll figure it out, it'll be okay." He murmured. "Just... Tell me you will be safe. I... I can't lose you..." His voice shook but he didn't care. Sherlock felt relief seep through his body as John spoke.  _This_  was why Sherlock loved him. He truly trusted him. It wasn't like everyone else claimed to trust him but really didn't. John honestly did. He didn't even question him. He just did it, like it came naturally to him.

"I will be. I'll be fine. And as long as you stay out for a little while it will all be fine. I promise to explain as soon as it's all over." He kissed John as hard as he could, holding onto him tightly. "Thank you, for trusting me. I swear it's all going to be fine."

"I have always trusted you, completely. Mycroft teased me about it when I first met him. I don't know why but you are the only person I have ever trusted like this. With all of me." He spoke softly, finally beginning to shower as the cold was actually starting to get to his shoulder. "Even the guys I was with in Afghanistan... I trusted them but not like this. It's a mystery I have never been able to solve and likely never will; but you saved me from the darkest moment in my life and I will help you with yours." He doled out some of his own shampoo and ran it into his hair, washing it softly. Sherlock smiled brightly at John, just the fact that he had his trust was the most amazing thing in the world. It was most likely the thing that would keep him from using again.

"It will all be fine, I promise." He brushed his lips with a soft kiss. He leaned into John's touch as he washed his hair, he honestly felt so much better in the cold water now that he knew he had his trust. "Don't even think about it anymore, it will be fine." He promised as he brought a hand to John's shoulder and rubbed it soothingly because he knew it had to be hurting.

"I'm alright love." John smiled and he rinsed Sherlock's hair before finding his body wash. "You know this shower is slightly pointless, because I know you are just going to make me make a mess." He blushed but grinned as he leaned in and kissed him hard.

"Hmm? Me? That doesn't sound like something I would do." He said with a wide grin. While he kissed John he moved his hands to his lower back and pulled him close. "I wouldn't make a mess, I behave." He said, faking innocence.

"Mmhmm," John hummed softly. He reached for his soap, washing his hair slowly so that the scent would tease Sherlock. "Then I guess you won't mind if I shave." He grinned.

"No, I won't mind." Sherlock promised but he kept his hands exactly where they were. "Am I required to let you go though? Because I'm not sure if I can do that, Captain Watson." He murmured into his ear with a sly smile. John grunted, biting his lip. That tone was just...  
"No, you aren't required to let me go." He smiled and easily maneuvered about to rinse his hair and to wash himself. "Tell me Master," He whispered softly leaning in so Sherlock's nose was pressed against John's neck. "Do I smell acceptable now?" He kept his voice low, giving Sherlock dominance but his tone definitely full of lust.

"Oh, yes. You smell absolutely delicious." He growled into his ear. Sherlock simply couldn't contain himself anymore as he started to nibble on John's ear. "If I wasn't in control, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from taking you right now." He moved to his lover's neck and bit him pretty hard, at the wince, he licked over the mark and then kissed it sweetly. "But I am in control so you can shave."

"Fuck..." John groaned unable to contain his words. He pushed his mouth to Sherlock's almost desperately groaning as he did. His kiss was pure love, pure need. He poured everything into that kiss his heart hammering against his ribcage as he tried to give Sherlock the best kiss he had ever given any of his lovers. "You never have to hold back with me." He whispered barely pulling his mouth away. Sherlock was honestly stunned by how powerful this kiss was. It took his breath away. He gasped when their lips parted for just a second as they continued to kiss. The water may be freezing cold but Sherlock no longer could feel it. Things were starting to warm up very quickly.

"Oh, yes I do. Because if I didn't, John...We'd never stop. You're becoming my new addiction. I have to have some limits on how many times I can use you."

"Bit difficult to solve cases that way, yea?" John panted as he asked. He was so hot under the proverbial collar now. "God the things you do to me." He braced his arms against the wall, not caging Sherlock in but resting as his legs shook. "But right now it's just me and you, so why hold back? I know a case will come soon enough and you will be distant and brooding while your mind tears away at the details. I imagine it will be feast or famine..." His voice was soft, full of his emotion. "But I want you to tell me how this works. How do we work? What will function best for you?" He sighed softly. "Because as long as you never get bored of me, you need my help, and you just keep relying on me I will be happy." Sherlock stepped closer to John resting his hands on his chest as he moved his lips to his jaw, leaving gentle soft kisses there as he moved them lower to his neck and shoulder smiling whenever he noticed a small purple bruise.

"Then you'll be happy forever, John." Sherlock whispered against his skin. "I never get bored with you, I always need your help even when I don't want to admit it, and I have always relied on you." He tore his lips away to gaze into John's eyes trying to show him just how much he meant those words. "When a case does come along I  _will_  be distant but not because I want to. My mind gets to cluttered when I'm working to separate out the little things like eating. But no matter what comes along you will be the one I go to bed with every night. You'll be there, right beside me and I'll still love you. I may forget to say it while we working but you can't forget that it is true, alright?"

"I won't forget." John whispered, hearing the words again made his heart flutter. "I love you." He murmured softly. "It will take me time to get used to this but it will be okay. And when your mind won't quiet just take whatever you need from me. I honestly don't care if we are in the middle of a crime scene or cuddled in bed. Anything I can do for you I will." His breath was heavy as he stared back into those eyes. "You are my life." Sherlock heart swelled with something he still couldn't quite understand, he knew it was love. He knew this feeling clanging around his chest was love but it was still a tad overwhelming. He smiled softly and instead of doing anything sexual he just wrapped his arms around John and kissed his shoulder.

"You've been my life for years. The moment you walked through the door at St. Bart's you became my world despite my own intentions. My cases and you were the only thing that have mattered to me and it's still that way now. Only now you come first, you and then  _our_  cases. You always come first, even if I forget to show it you will always come first in my mind. If I had to choose between the cases and you I'd choose you without thinking." John didn't know what to say to  _that_. That statement was more powerful than anything else Sherlock could have said. The man positively lived for cases, for the hunt. It swept through him and stole his breath, his heart pounding against his ribs as he looked up into those eyes.  
"Oh  _Sherlock_..." He whispered softly, awe and emotion clear in his tone and blushing as he leaned into him. He rested his head against his shoulder and clutched him tightly, unable to put more words to what he was feeling. He was fighting an overpowering emotion clawing at his chest, the doubt that told him he wasn't good enough to be loved  _this much_  by  _this man_. Sherlock deserved so much more than an ordinary wounded soldier but he wanted John. John's hand slid up into Sherlock's hair massaging his scalp gently as he deepened their embrace, trying desperately to allow their contact to reassure him. Sherlock smiled softly closing his eyes and committing this moment into permanence in his mind palace. He never wanted to forget  _this_. Especially the way John said his name like that, simply because Sherlock had confessed the truth of how much he meant to him.

"I love you, John. Thank you for taking care of me and helping me get through this. I doubt I would be able to do any of this without you." He kissed John's cheek softly before he pulled away. He reached over to the shower head and turned the temperature of the water hotter. "Don't worry," He added when John moved to protest. "I think my fever is gone for now and even if it's not I'm sure I can handle the hot water for a little while." He kissed John's lips softly before pulling him into the hot water. John kissed him deeply, wrapping his hands around him.  
"I will always take care of you, forever." He smiled and gave himself over to Sherlock's attention.

"Stop worrying about taking care of me, Doctor Watson." Sherlock's voice was mischievous and commanding. "I'm going to take care of you right now."

"Oh for Christ sake," John groaned softly. Those words just melted him when they came out of that mouth. He took John's body wash and poured some into his hands before beginning to wash him as he did. A thought popped in his head.

"Do you trust me enough to let me shave you?" He asked with a teasing smile, his voice thick with the tone it got when he was commanding John.

"Yes, I do." He whispered, trying to keep himself calm and focused. The feel of Sherlock's hands on his skin felt like it was leaving behind trails of electric. He held himself as steady as he could trying to be a good submissive.

"You shouldn't." Sherlock hummed moving John under the hot water. "I'm actually shit at shaving, I cut myself almost every time." He smirked as he confessed. "You need to do it, you shave every day to keep your face smooth it's part of your routine." He kissed John's ear before pulling away. "You go ahead and shave, and I'll... keep cleaning you." He grinned as he dropped to his knees and began caressing John's thighs.

"With the way you wield that knife for your experiments I'm surprised." John grunted softly but tried to keep his focus. He wanted to be more of a challenge, to encourage Sherlock to really follow his desire, but he was also well aware that if Sherlock touched him at all while he was shaving he was likely to do serious damage to himself. So he lathered his face picking up his razor and shaving rather quickly. Sherlock was right he shaved almost every day so there wasn't much to worry about and it wasn't like he had the luxury of time when he'd been overseas. Sherlock pouted when John finished shaving having been expecting him to go much slower.

"You were supposed to go slower than that, John." He hummed as he started to kiss his thighs. "I wanted to tease you while you shaved." He whispered as he started to lick John length.

"I didn't think you would behave." John smirked.

"You're the one who's not behaving, John." He scolded playfully and gave a slap to John's ass while he grinned up at his lover.

"I'm sorry, Master" John said quietly. "I already know I can't hold out to your teasing. We don't need an emergency hospital visit." He groaned when Sherlock smacked him, words flying free of his mouth without his acknowledgement. "Oh God, please do that again." He begged, closing his eyes. He flushed a bit with shame as he heard himself begging for that punishment, but he focused. "I will be better..." He shook slightly.

"Oh, you like that? You like being spanked?" He asked with a low chuckle, teasing John even as he himself became enthralled by the new information. "How dirty of you, Pet." He nipped at John's hip bone before spanking him once more, enjoying the satisfying crack that echoed off the walls of the bathroom as he did. "Tell me how much you love it, John." He ordered as he squeezed his ass. "Tell me why I should give you this pleasure." He growled as he continued to press kisses over John's hip bones.

"Oh fuck..." John whimpered as he brain registered that yes he did in fact like it, much more than he expected to. He blushed and moaned at the sound of enjoyment in Sherlock's voice, apparently he liked it too. "It's unexpected, I never expected to like being punished Master..." He groaned, his skin flushing more but trying to continue on with his words. Sherlock made him a fumbling mess and he couldn't do anything to stop it, nor did he want to. "But the sharp sudden feel of your skin contacting mine so roughly leaves a dull ache in my groin..." He tried to be as vivid as possible to put words where Sherlock might not have feelings. "It's painful but it quickly becomes pleasure, especially knowing it was delivered by  _you_." He wanted to touch Sherlock but hadn't been given permission so he clenched his hands. "Please, Master, I have..." He groaned. "I have tried to serve you as you wish... Please... Reward or punish me I don't care just please, please keep touching your pet!" He pleaded, whimpering just a bit. Sherlock growled with lust - he couldn't believe he had such an effect on John. His soldier who could stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching was pleading for Sherlock to give him more, to keep touching him. John was moaning and trembling and it made Sherlock drunk with the sheer desire of it all.

"Fuck, John." He hissed, kissing every inch of skin within his reach as he stood. "You've been such a good, pet. I'll reward you." He promised. "How do you want to be rewarded, John?" He asked, wrapping one hand in his hair. "I'll give you anything you want just this once." He grinned as he smacked John once more. He chuckled as he watched him whimper and shiver. "You really do love that, your entire body gives you away. How about we go into the bedroom?" Sherlock whispered in his ear, licking over it as he did. "I'll go get my riding crop and we can see if you like that." John could have released just from the thought, he groaned loudly. Sherlock could read him like a fucking book, it was dangerous and maddening and John was desperate for more.

"Oh please..." He begged completely lost in his desire. He was very red, flushing with a mixture of desire and shame - but his eyes revealed just how much he was enjoying showing Sherlock the power he had over him. "I have..." He blushed more and wanted to look away but forced himself to hold Sherlock's gaze, only lowering his eyes slightly. "I have wanted to know what that would feel like since you mentioned it that first day... Please..." Christ, was he really going to ask for that? "Please Master, I want to see how much I like it when you give me pain..."

"Oh, you're such a perfect, Pet." Sherlock gave him a nice, slow, tormenting kiss before he turned the water off. The rush of control already flooding his system and focusing his mind on one thing: the experiment of finding out how much John liked pain. "Follow me, love." He ordered grabbing John by the hair and tugging on it gently as he got him out of the shower. He grabbed the towel and tossed it at John. "Dry off some, don't want you getting cold." He smirked and dried his own hair off before he walked into the bedroom. He walked over to his closet to find his riding crop, digging through a few boxes as he did. "Aha," he said happily once he dug two of them out from a box. He paused a moment surveying the two of them and then looked at a colored band on the handle, he tossed one of them aside that one was for experiments with corpses. This one... Well he'd been saving this one. He stepped back into the actual bedroom, smirking broadly and his grin only widened when he found John standing at the foot of the bed. John was standing in a position that clearly said  _give me orders_. Sherlock grinned at him as he playfully swatted his arm. "Now, get in the position you want pet or I'll put you in one." His voice was dark and full of lust.

_Fuck..._

"Please Master, I have never done this before." John swallowed hard, but was definitely turned on. His breathing already slightly ragged and his skin screaming for more touch. His eyes begged Sherlock for more, for him to completely dominate him. "W-which position would be best?" John knew as he so easily opened up to his wilder fantasies, that Sherlock was everything he would ever need. That Sherlock was his own deep addiction and he wanted everything Sherlock had to offer.

"Come here," Sherlock ordered with a grin as he grabbed John by the hair again and made him get on the bed. "On all fours." He barked tracing John's spine with the tip of the riding crop. "That's it,  _my_ good boy." He smirked, once again Sherlock was drunk with this power. The sheer force of it making him have no control over himself. They were both reduced to pure instinct and desire, their minds blissfully blank as they focused on one thing - driving each other insane. "Now to make this more interesting." Sherlock laughed in a low deep growling way. "Every time I spank you with the riding crop you have to thank me." Sherlock climbed on top of the bed and started to squeeze John's ass. "Now, how many do you think you deserve, hm? You've been a good pet. Should I give you ten? Or do you want more than that? I think ten is very generous."

"Please Master," John whimpered groaning as he presented his ass as ordered."Ten is generous, you are too good to me. Please Master, please use me how you see fit." His cock ached already he was so tight, moans escaping him as he waited in desperate torment. His mind briefly registered that they both should have seen this in each other before, because it was so typical of their life - but John's mind blanked again as Sherlock let out a low growling moan.

"Oh, you really shouldn't tell me to do that, John. Because I'll use you until the point of exhaustion." He whispered as he started to run his riding crop across his thighs. He enjoyed the way John trembled at the feel of the leather on his skin. "But I will use you right now." Without any warning he brought the riding crop down on John's ass with a low chuckle. He watched as John almost bucked both towards and away from the smack and felt his body tighten with desperation at the sound that came from John as he rode out the sensation. "Don't forget to thank me, John." He murmured, "If you forget or fail to do so, I'll punish you and I know how to punish you." He warned.

"Oh!" He grunted but moaned loudly. "Thank you Master, may I have the next?" John lowered his head to the bed, turning so Sherlock could watch his reactions. So Sherlock could completely see the whole of his face. Sherlock groaned, John was so very good as being submissive and not just submissive but at showing Sherlock how much  _power_  he had over him. John shook slightly but he felt bliss. "It hurts but then becomes pleasure. The leather bites into my skin," He offered softly in a low voice, knowing descriptions would pull Sherlock in more. "But the pain rolls through my body and makes me more aroused, Master." The sharp snap, a groan of pleasure, and his closed eyes greeted each smack. As he thanked Sherlock and asked for the next his voice was hitched but became more desperate each time, clearly enjoying it despite the pain. Sherlock was so hard he was aching, he was fighting himself to remain in control of the experiment and not just throw it all aside and savagely use John. He wanted to take John  _right now_  but he wanted to desperately give John his ten smacks.

"Good, John, so very good." He hummed before he brought down the riding crop again. "Yes, Pet you can have another. But start stroking yourself," He ordered and as soon as John did he brought down the riding crop for a third time. "Do you like this, John? Were you thinking about this when we had our case with Miss Adler?"

"Thank you, Master. Please may I have more." John pleaded as he shook, his hand sliding over his hard length slowly but with intent. He was so aroused, so desperate. The sting of the leather made him want to buck his hips and it took all he had not to. "Y-yes. But... Not from her..." He forced out, grunting. "You seemed... Seemed to know what... What she did... I wanted... Wanted to know... Wanted you to control me." He forced out, his words punctuated by shaking breaths and deep needy moans. He just melted under Sherlock's attentions, desperate for more - for the next thing. He blushed and his face was dotted with sweat, his mouth parted and trembling with each breath. "I like it... Please Master, tell me what you feel... Please..." He whimpered and begged clawing the sheets.

"Oh, how I feel?" He hummed softly. "I feel like I want to take you, John. Fuck you into the mattress. I love to control you. I've always wanted to do this to you. That's why I bought a second riding crop." He traced the edge of the crop down John's back and to his face where he used it to lift John's chin. Angling him so he could see the entirety of his face and making him open his eyes. Their gazes locked and the desire in Sherlock's eyes made John whimper again. "Oh, you're so beautiful. You're face is so flushed. I bet none of your  _girlfriends_  ever got to see you like this. Only me." He brought the riding crop down for a fourth and fifth time.

"Thank you, Master..." John muttered, his breath hitching in his chest. He needed release but it quickly became clear to him that he was not going to get it this way. That his entire body was desperate for Sherlock's command. "No... No one has ever... Seen me like this.. Only you. Only for you!" He couldn't stop himself as he grunted and shifted his hips just slightly. He knew his arse was likely just as red as his face. His cock throbbing in his own hands as he stroked himself as he came undone again for Sherlock. "I can... Hear the need in your voice." He whimpered, panting for breath. "Please Sherlock," He begged. It was so dangerous to need this man, this much - but he was passed the point of caring.

"Please, what?" Sherlock asked getting close to John, his cock pressing against his thighs. "What do you want? If you want something you need to tell me. Maybe I'll be generous and give you what you  _need_." He brought the riding crop down against his skin for a sixth time, unable to stop his own hips from bucking into John desperate to feel some friction. "Maybe if you ask really nicely I'll give you exactly you want." He whispered and then brought down the crop for a seventh time.

"T-thank you M-master," John forced out, almost choking on the words as he half sobbed with desperate need. "Please Sherlock, use me." His voice suddenly went firm as he sought relief for both of them. "Please claim me again." He panted, his hips shifting slightly as he struggled not to buck back against the feel of Sherlock against him. His eyes met Sherlock's, his gaze burning. "Please show me how much you want me, show me how much you need me... Please..." His took a deep shaking breath. "Lose control, like I have..." It was a desperate plea of a man who was completely vulnerable and exposed in front of the only person he could ever dissolve like that for. He wanted to see what he  _did_  to Sherlock - what it was that made Sherlock so careful in their interactions. He wanted to see the unbridled truth contained within the cold, calculating mind that dazzled and delighted him. To see the only man he'd never seen falter give in to that side of himself that would only ever be wild and uncontrolled. "Please," He barely breathed. Sherlock simply couldn't take anymore, hearing John begging like that broke him. He threw the riding crop aside and pushed John onto the bed until his chest was on the bed, his ass in the air.

"You want me to use you? Fine. I'll use you. But remember that you asked for it." He warned his voice shaking as he brought a hand to John's hair and tugged on it so his face was turned. "That's it, I want you to look at me while I fuck you," He hissed as he started to slowly push the tip of his cock inside, John.

"Oh fuck..." John hissed and his gaze was completely glued to Sherlock and his actions. There was some burn but there was mostly intense overwhelming sensation as Sherlock just let go. "Yes, Sherlock. God, yes!" He grunted. "I did ask for it, I asked for what you're giving me Master. I need it..." He groaned. "Please..." Sherlock let out a moan as his length sunk deeper into John. He gasped, and wrapped his arms around John from behind clinging to him as he held him in place. He stayed where he was trying to let John get used to the stretch before he started to move inside him.

"Oh, John. You're mine. You belong to  _me_  and no one else!"

"Fuck!" John grunted loudly. "Yes, Sherlock. Only yours." He panted, digging his fingernails into the sheets. "It's all I could ever be." He pushed back into Sherlock unconsciously as he pressed forward, moving desperately. "Only ever yours." Once Sherlock felt John push back onto him he took that as he could finally start fucking him.

"Fuck, John!" He moaned as he started to move his hips hard and fast. He needed this just as badly as John did.

"Oh! OH! Sherlock!" John grunted feeling Sherlock's nails dig into his hips as he worked. "Yes, please don't stop!" His ass hurt but it felt so good. The sting of touch rushing over it as Sherlock worked stirring up the tension and sensation from the riding crop. John's fingers were white with effort as he clutched the bed so tightly his gaze still on Sherlock as he worked. He didn't just  _want_  to see Sherlock as he let go, he  _needed_  to see it. The noises he was making were purely guttural and lustful and he made no attempt to silence them. "I'm so hot..." He whimpered, moaning and fighting his desire to push back into Sherlock. "Please Master, may I move?" He begged, his toes curling into the bed. He needed to touch him more, to kiss him. Sherlock would have just kept thrusting into John if he hadn't heard that whimper. He really didn't want to stop, not even for a second but he panted,

"Yes," He grunted and pulled out of him. "Quickly," He ordered because he wanted to get back to what they were doing. "I want to fuck you, John." He said, sounding a bit desperate himself. John turned on his back and forcibly and pulled Sherlock back to him.  
"I need to touch you, Master. Please continue." He offered himself back to Sherlock in this way Sherlock could see every movement of his face, the way he begged for Sherlock to reenter him and to just utterly wreck him. He reached up, clinging to Sherlock and drawing him down for a kiss. His body shivering with need. "Fuck me more, Master." He whispered against Sherlock's mouth. "Fuck, please fuck me more."

"You don't have to beg anymore, John." Sherlock murmured around his mouth. He moved just slightly and slid back into him. "I'm yours. I'll give you what you want." He moaned as he started to move his hips again, his fingernails digging back into John's hips as he fucked him.

"God you are incredible!" John breathed in awe against Sherlock's mouth, his hips pushing back into his lover with each thrust. Trying to draw him out, trying to bring both their releases. "Come undone with me." He whispered, wrapping himself around him as best he could, one hand carding through his hair as he desperately pressed their mouths together again.

"John!" Sherlock moaned but it came out as desperate whine. "Christ, the things you do to me, John. I'm already so close." He whimpered into his ears as his hips moved on their own. He gripped John's hips even tighter while his lips worked together with John's. "I love you, John. I love you so fucking much." He panted.

"I love you!" John grunted and his body tensed, wanting so badly to release but he fought it, waiting to follow Sherlock over the edge. "God, give it to me!" He clawed into Sherlock's hip with one hand, the other clutching him closer for an almost violently passionate kiss. The moment Sherlock tumbled over the edge John went with him shouting Sherlock's name into his mouth but not breaking the kiss. His body tensing from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes before going utterly limp as wave after wave of release shot through his body. Sherlock collapsed on top of John with a loud moan. He couldn't possibly understand anything in this moment, though his mind was instantly trying to pull its beleaguered self out of the pleasure filled blissful state it was in to examine how his lover had enjoyed their experiment. He had never in his life experienced so much pleasure so often. He relaxed his grip on John only so he could wrap his arms around him in a proper in embrace.

"John, Oh, John." He kept murmuring as they kissed. John groaned softly into the kisses, his head spinning and his body completely boneless. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock in return and couldn't even begin to understand what made him so lucky to have Sherlock's heart. After everything they'd been through - after... He tried to catch his breath, panting hard as he just let himself enjoy the feeling of Sherlock's body against his. Taking the chance to let his fingers go back up and run through that perfect hair, his other hand running over Sherlock's back - wanting to keep him in the quietness of their bliss for as long as possible. Sherlock buried his face in John's neck, no longer being able to kiss him as he tried to catch his breath. He moved a hand to John's ass and rubbed it gently. "I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?" He whispered, sounding a tad worried as he hugged his lover close. "I got a bit carried away." He confessed, a flush of red coming to his cheeks.

"God no," John forced out, through heavy breath. "It hurt but it felt amazing..." He blushed quite red and swallowed hard. "I uhm... I didn't know I liked it  _that_  much." He looked away, biting his lip nervously. Sherlock laughed softly, in a gentle way. "You're quickly showing me that I have a whole different side of myself that I didn't know existed..." He blushed a bit more. "Good thing you seem keen to explore it with me..." He met Sherlock's gaze again, but was still a little embarrassed. Though he tried to hide it, in that moment all of the doubt he felt about himself would be visible; how much he worried that Sherlock would get bored, how little he could honestly believe that he was worthy of Sherlock's feeling, and how desperate he was to prove to both of them he was worth the effort. His mask was gone and all that was left was the true side of himself that Sherlock had so easily seen when they'd first met but that he had shoved away time and time again since then to be strong. "You're so beautiful when you get lost in the feelings we share..." He whispered, slowly averting his eyes.

"You're the beautiful one," Sherlock whispered as he brought his lips to his cheek. "I've never seen anyone as gorgeous as you. And this side to you, this very, very dirty side of you only proves we were meant to be together." Sherlock smiled and kissed John's cheek again. "Don't ever be afraid to show that side with me. Because...I think it's pretty obvious how much I enjoy being that way. I've always been in touch with my dominant side and if you think you want to keep trying to explore your submissive side, I think that's  _wonderful_." He kissed John's lips softly as he pulled out with a bit of a whimper, "I love you." John grunted slightly at the emptiness left behind when Sherlock pulled away.

"I don't know about being beautiful, Sherlock... I'm just... Me." He shrugged a bit. "And I'm not afraid of showing that side to you, you're the only one I could ever show it to." He whispered softly, his eyes positively drinking in every movement Sherlock made. "I love you, God I do." He whispered, his hand finding its way back into Sherlock's hair. "I wish I had told you that sooner, but I was too afraid..." He blushed. "I told you that shower was pointless." He chuckled softly, pulling Sherlock back for another kiss. Using the time their lips touched to purely worship Sherlock with his kisses, gently nipping and licking at those slightly swollen lips attached to that bloody brilliant mouth.

"See, you don't think you are beautiful - you have ego about your appearance. That's another reason why I think you are truly beautiful." Sherlock said with a hum as they kissed. "God help me I think I just quoted a boy band." He said with an embarrassed laugh. "Damn you for keeping the radio on while you shower." He playfully scolded as he nipped John's bottom. "Maybe we should stop taking showers right after sex and instead maybe we should wait until tonight. I think we'd be considered odd if we took showers more than once a day." He giggled.

"Christ," John laughed and then gasped when Sherlock nipped him. "Oh Jesus..." He grunted. "Little sore there, love." He giggled. "We're already considered odd. We have been since we first became friends. In fact I think Stamford might have started it all off. Or Molly. Really either of them." He laughed more, it felt good to laugh. "After all you just gave me your name and an address and that was the end of it. We were flat mates." He stood slowly, with a small grunt as he did. "Either way I have to clean up - you've turned me into a right mess."

"I refuse to apologize," Sherlock said with a grin. "For giving you only my name and address or for turning you into a mess, I'm quite proud of myself for both of those things." He laid back on the bed, still wearing a grin. "You know we need to conduct other experiments. Like having sex everywhere. Not just in this room but in the kitchen, on the couch, in your room upstairs. Everywhere. I mean evidence suggests we will tend to do this often so we might as well try a different location." He chuckled.

"Christ..." John turned a new shade of crimson. "Hopefully Mrs. Hudson takes the doors being closed as a hint then..." John grabbed the dry towel he had used the night before and wiped his chest off before wiping Sherlock off as well. "And we both know Mycroft and Greg will be back." He laughed. "I truly imagine that we will end up having sex in all sorts of places, Sherlock." He smiled. "I can already see you trying to convince me to drop my pants in the middle of a crime scene." He teased, knowing full well the likelihood of that was nil. The flat was one thing, cases were another. It was Sherlock's turn to blush then, to which he grabbed a pillow and hid his face.

"I have thought about that before," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I did more than thought about it actually, I sort of...fantasized about it. But, I won't tell you more because if I do we'll end up having sex again for the second time since we woke up." He chuckled as he felt John climb back onto the bed. "We haven't had to put on clothes today though. Ha! Now that's a benefit I never considered when I thought about being with you. We're going to be naked all the time now, aren't we?" He asked with a smile as he peeked out from the pillow.

"Oh Christ," John grunted and his mind just took off without him, imagining what sort of things Sherlock would have had to imagine that he wouldn't tell him. He looked at Sherlock with pure heat in his eyes, despite the fact that he was rather tired. "I don't think I'll get to have much choice in the matter will I?" He grinned, teasing. "After all you established you prefer to be naked, so I'm imagining my three layer outfits will only frustrate you until you shred them all with your scalpel." John immediately pulled Sherlock to him, cuddling close to him. "But you're going to have to tell me that fantasy sometime. Because I can tell you there were quite a few nights I expected you to just walk over and claim me. Especially..." He blushed. "Well rather  _emphatically_  after that incident at the pool."

"You read my mind then, because almost losing you that scared me to death John and I wanted to just rip your clothes off... I mean I did I just didn't remove all of them. But I wanted to. I wanted to claim you right then and there. I wanted to do it just in case I never got the chance to but just as I was getting my nerve up to do so Moriarty came back and ruined everything. I'm sure if he hadn't I would have made some sort of advance." He kissed John's neck softly a few times before looking up at him with a soft smile. "If you really want to know my fantasy I'll tell you, although, I warn you we could just get aroused again." He grinned.

"God..." John grit his teeth, moaning softly. "That would have just... I don't even know what that would have just..." He laughed. "And that's a risk I'm willing to take, out with it you."

"Yes, Captain." He said with a giggle. "I've imagine things quite a few times, though this when I thought I was only sexually attracted to you. I didn't know I was in love with you then but the desire still remains." He climbed on top of John, straddling him and leaning down a bit to play with his hair and whisper in his ear." I've imagined just like you said walking over to you and making you drop you pants, pushing you up against the squad car while I sucked you off in the middle of a crime scene. I think of that when the crime scenes are boring and we're waiting on Lestrade to tell us some sort of useless information." He grinned, "But when it's a really exciting one, I try to misbehave. Have you noticed? I wanted to see if I could anger you enough to take me aside and teach me to behave." He leaned down and brushed his lips over John. John groaned softly.

"I always wondered what you were doing when you starting acting like that." John giggled, grinning. "Shoving me into the wall or into a police car, pressing up against me so your erection pressed into my rear or my leg... Just generally causing trouble. I wasn't sure what you were doing especially because you had everyone rather convinced you don't do sentiment or physicality. I really should have put you over my knee." He kissed him, shoving their mouths together. "You are trouble."

"In front of all those people at the yard, John? You dirty thing." He giggled as they continued to kiss even more. He forced himself to pull away, smiling down at John. "No. No. See we're just getting started again, John." He warned with a smile.

"I think Greg would thoroughly enjoy watching me own you on a crime scene." John said softly, with intention as he stretched. "It's hard for us to stop isn't it? I mean all this time of repressed emotion and sexual tension. But I probably should eat lunch and we should probably try to get some sort of nourishment into you, whether you want it or not." Sherlock blushed at the idea and then he shook his head.

"I don't want Greg to see that." He muttered with disgust. "It is hard, but I'm sure I can repress myself for a little while for us to eat lunch like normal  _ordinary_ people." He stood, touching his forehead because he got a bit of head rush. "Let's see if I can make it to the couch." He mumbled as he started to walk down the hall not even bothering to wrap a sheet around himself. John pulled his robe over his shoulders and tied it loosely, giggling.


	4. Ghost of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally comes clean about the entirety of his history with Victor after Victor comes to collect what he is owed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some how this chapter ended up without any smut, don't worry the next chapter will more than make up for it. We promise you.

"How are you feeling?" John asked softly, following Sherlock into the living room.

"Fine, for the moment," Sherlock said with a smile but as soon as he sat down on the couch, he let out a sigh. "I'm sure it won't last though, it never does."

"Well then I guess we can just have sex again since that seems to be better than any medical help I have given you." John smirked grinning as he teased Sherlock for his new found penchant for touching John. He moved over to him carding his hands through Sherlock's hair, speaking softly as he did. "What do you think you can stomach to eat, love?"

"Sex is the perfect pain reliever." He said with a grin as he gazed into John's eyes. "I think I can stomach just about anything right now so I suggest you bring me something while I still feel that way." He laughed. John giggled and pressed a soft kiss on his brow before heading into the kitchen.

John wasn't sure what they had in the kitchen but he really wanted to make something for Sherlock. So rummaged about for a bit before finding enough of something to make a decent meal out of. It took about twenty minutes but he managed to finish his work and brought Sherlock a fairly simple meal of chicken, rice, and a very small amount of peas. Sherlock meanwhile had managed to feel alright while John was away in the kitchen but he did begin to feel a bit cold. He wrapped himself in the heating blanket, listening to and watching John work as best he could from his vantage point.

"We really need to keep actual food in our house. Thankfully we still had enough to be going on with." John set the plate down for Sherlock, before setting a slightly larger one for himself down as well. Then he returned to the kitchen and retrieved some water for both of them. "If you can eat then perhaps I will have to reward you." He winked. But it wasn't necessary for him to offer Sherlock a reward as once saw the food he eagerly took it as he was actually hungry for once. At John's promise to reward him he almost choked on some chicken but he recovered enough to swallow before he succumbed to a fit of giggles.

"Really you're just as bad as I am, John." He snapped giving John a scolding look. "Now that we've actually had sex you can stop thinking about it either. Really I guess we are perfect for each other. A fact that is both wonderful and terrible at the same time." He smirked.

"I never said sexually." John teased, enjoying the ease of the moment. He wondered briefly if Sherlock was acting so comfortable in an effort to ease away the tension of the looming danger. But he just let it be, because he was desperate to have peace between them if only for a moment. "I think you just like me naked and writhing under you." He quirked an eyebrow as Sherlock giggled, "Though I guess I was thinking it, so your statement is technically still correct." He winked. Sherlock honestly wasn't thinking about Victor coming over tomorrow. His body was relaxed and at ease because the looming danger was far from his mind. When the danger was brought back to his mind he would be tense and filled with worry but for now that was all so far away. For now he was content, enjoying the easy moment of him and John simply being together and eating lunch. It was a simple ordinary moment but he loved it, though he would never admit it out loud.

"I'm always correct." Sherlock said smugly, winking right back at John. "Uh, I think my headache coming back." He mumbled and at once he felt a dull throb in his head. John having finished his lunch set the plate down and instantly ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair massaging his scalp. He immediately forgot about anything except Sherlock and helping him, just as he always did.  
"If the room starts to spin you can take the Dramamine. The effects seem to be lessening for you though," He mused as something seemed to click. Suddenly it all made sense – Sherlock had measured his drug use. He'd only taken the smallest amounts necessary, on a purposeful schedule in order to maintain control. "Even with this you were exceedingly calculated weren't you? Perfectly measured and timed." His voice betrayed the awe he felt as he surveyed Sherlock's behaviors.

"I always am, John." Sherlock said with a slight blush feeling a tad shy as John sounded so amazed. "I can't really stop myself from doing it." He confessed as he set the half eaten plate down. He leaned into John's touch and kissed his cheek once. "It's a reflex." He explained simply.

"Has everything always been that way?" John asked softly, turning to pull Sherlock against his chest and letting the soft massage drift down to Sherlock's shoulders. Pressing the detective against his chest as they half reclined together on the couch.

"Yes." Sherlock hummed, his eyes closing as he relaxed into John's touch. It was making the ache in his head dull some. He let out a deep relaxed sigh, "Even when I was a child. It's always been this way."

"I can understand now why you would have turned to the drugs." John whispered softly, his voice humming against Sherlock's ear as he gently rubbed small circles over his shoulders. "That's why you forced people away too, isn't it? Because you couldn't stop seeing things about them and it eventually led you to find the bad things, the things you became unable to tolerate, the withering glances as you deducted something new about them. That's why you were so surprised by me thinking you were brilliant and extraordinary... Isn't it?" Sherlock simply nodded really wanting to give voice to the admission of how surprised he had been. He brought a hand to John's chest and began stroking it gently.

"Did you know I had four flat mates before you came along?" He whispered. "I tried my best to behave with them all but they all thought I was a freak. In fact each of them announced that assessment of me just before they packed their things and moved out." Sherlock sighed, leaning into John's touch with a soft moan. "I can't help what I do. It's a reflex just like breathing and no one seems to understand that. Well no one else." He whispered, smiling some as he realized John did understand it.

"It really is brilliant though." John offered quietly, enjoying the feel of Sherlock's hand on him. "The two of us really were made to be together. I know you don't believe in destiny or anything as sentimental as that," He teased softly, "But I really feel like there is no other person in this world who could have turned the light back on in my life like you have." He sighed softly, opening himself to share his darkest secrets with this man. He swallowed hard before he let out his confession. "I had planned to end it all," He whispered, blinking back a tear. "That's why I had the gun, I just..." He shuddered and sighed. "With my leg and the lack of support I was getting from my family I was sort of over it all. No one wanted to higher an army doctor and I didn't want to leave London... That day, the day we met..." John closed his eyes screwing them tight against the emotion in his chest. "I was pretty close to the end that day, until Stamford introduced me to you." He really didn't believe in all that nonsense about fate or destiny. But the weight of John's confession made him  _want_  to believe in it. He looked up at John, watching him as he tried to hold his emotion in check, observing how even after confessing such a secret thing he was afraid his feelings would make Sherlock uncomfortable. Sherlock shook his head, moving a hand to caress his cheek.

"John Watson, I love you but if you ever feel like ending it all again, I swear, I will knock some sense into." He warned. "I love you. You changed my life the moment you walked into St. Bart's. If I lost you I don't know how I would cope."

"After that day, so long as I knew you were going to be there it never even crossed my mind again. Well, there were dark moments while…" His voice cracked and he whispered, opening his eyes to look into Sherlock's and leaning into his hand. "You saved me from so much, so much more than you know. I'm sorry I keep getting all emotional on you - but it's hard to hold back the things I've been fighting inside myself for all this time." He smiled softly. "You'll never lose me and if you ever can't find me, I'll be right here waiting for you with open arms."

"Don't be sorry. Emotions are fine. I just tend to not feel them as easily as most. But that doesn't mean I don't understand them, especially when it comes to you." Sherlock said with a warm smile. "Don't fight them, John, not if you don't want to. I have no problem letting you get it out." He kissed John's cheek and tried to hold him with a reassuring embrace. "I'll just hold you and try to help you through it." He promised. "I can be sympathetic." He said with a teasing smile.

"I'm not worried about that, Sherlock." John said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. I'm worried about overwhelming you or appearing to be just like any other normal  _boring_   _ordinary_ person." He let his fingers trace the lines of Sherlock's face as if memorizing it again for the first time. "But the things you do to me don't allow me to hold anything back and I want you to know how important to me you are."

"You are many things; John, however boring and ordinary do not describe you at all."

Sherlock whispered as he brushed his lips with John's gently. "I know I am important to you and that means a lot to me, but it's just... Hard to understand why I would be. I'm not used to people thinking about me the way you do, John." Sherlock looked down, sadness flickering through his eyes and it made John eager to prove himself and his heart.

"I feel that way because you're brilliant! You're the smartest person I have ever met! You're one of the most observant, clever, and beautifully insane people in the world. You know so many things and you do all these little things just for me, just  _about_ me - that just make you perfect." John's voice was passionate but soft as he gushed about his lover. "Noticing small things like I don't take sugar in my coffee but ignoring big things like who the Prime Minister is. Knowing everything about every look I give you... It might feel like a curse to you but it is clever and beautiful to me." Sherlock looked away, his cheeks warming horribly. John loved him for all the reasons most people hated him. It was backwards and insane and it was amazing. The fact that those were some of the reasons why John loved him made his heart pound harder in his chest.

"I love you, John. You make me feel important, loved. Even though I don't think I deserve to be loved or be considered important, you make me feel like I am." He leaned closer and kissed John deeply but did so very slowly. "I love you; you're the most important person in my life."

"You are worth so much more than I can give you, Sherlock." John whispered, wrapping his arms around Sherlock to tighten their embrace and kissing him back but with less heat and more intention of showing Sherlock just how much he loved him with actions not words. "You are important, you are so important." He pressed his face against Sherlock's neck, just holding him close and murmuring that he loved him over and over. Sherlock smiled brightly, not being able to stop the blush that covered his cheeks.

"I love you too," he said right after John no matter how many times he said it. He started to giggle when it became clear that John was sort of stuck in that admission. "I love you too." Sherlock honestly did love John more than words could explain. He loved John so much because he made him feel important just by holding him tightly and saying so. If anyone else had done this, he wouldn't believe them but he believed John. "I love you too," he said with a giggle for what had to be the twentieth time now and he gave John a curious look. John stopped, realizing he was sort of stuck in a loop and just let silence fall around them for awhile. He just held Sherlock to him, listening to his breathing and his heartbeat and feeling him in his arms. He didn't know what else to do or say right now, he was completely at a loss. His mind raced from here to there, trying to find the perfect thing to say. The perfect words to speak his mind, but nothing came. He pressed a soft kiss against Sherlock's mouth, his eyes searching Sherlock's as they broke apart. Sherlock was utterly comfortable like this. Even though they weren't speaking he was at peace. They didn't have to talk. They could simply look at each other. Just like they were now and feel like they were the only two in the world. He brought a hand up to John's hair and played with it mindlessly, it was always so soft. "Do you want to watch telly or something?" He asked John with a shy smile. "That is what couples do, correct? Sit on the couch and watch crap telly?"

"We're not like other couples." John smiled and leaned against Sherlock's touch. "I don't really want to watch telly, but if you do feel free. I'd rather just hold you. I could lie here all day and just hold you to me. But you'd get bored after awhile." John grinned.

"No, I don't want to watch it either. I just wanted to do something I knew you'd like." Sherlock admitted. He pulled away from John only so he could lay down and pull John on top of him. "Here, now you can hold me for as long as you want. I promise I won't get bored." He assured the other. "But, I actually may fall asleep. I'm rather tired, I didn't get any sleep last night. I'm rather certain you didn't either, Dr. Watson." He kissed his lips softly before he closed his eyes.

"Do you want to go back to bed then?" John asked softly. "Your curtains are so heavy we could make it nice and dark." He held Sherlock close nuzzling his face into Sherlock's hair and just breathing the scent of it as he sighed contentedly. "I'm absolutely exhausted thanks to you." Sherlock chuckled and opened his eyes to kiss John's nose.

"No. Let's stay here and build a fort." He said with a bright smile. He suddenly moved from underneath John and jumped up onto his feet. "Do you know how? I've never done it before. Well, I have but I was seven and pretending to be a pirate." He grabbed a few pillows off the couch and dropped them to the floor. "When's the last time you built one?"

"Oh, it's been awhile." John laughed and he made a quick trip upstairs and grabbed some sheets. He returned and pulled the arm chairs around along with the dining room chairs and quickly strung up the sheets to make a fort in the middle of the living room, with the coffee table easily pulled out of the way. "Why did you want to be a pirate?" Sherlock smiled up at John as they now lay underneath the flowing banners of their fort. The floor was covered in pillows and Sherlock honestly felt wonderful here. It was almost more comfortable than his own bed. He hugged John close and gave a contented sigh.

"I don't know. I just liked the idea of living without any rules. Being able to use all my skills to do whatever I wanted. I didn't have to be a scientist or philosopher, I could be a pirate genius." He smiled up at John, moving a hand to his hair again. "What did you want to be growing up?"

"A doctor." He laughed and snuggled in to Sherlock. "I pretty much knew what I wanted to be from the time I was five or so. Though I did waver between being a vet and a medical doctor." He hummed softly. "I could see you as a pirate." He hummed, musing over the thought.

"I could go to the store and buy a costume if you want." He winked at John and smirked playfully. Silence fell for a moment before he spoke again. "I've never done anything like  _that_  before but there's a first time for everything." He let out a laugh as he pushed some hair out of John's eyes. "If we're doing costumes though, you're wearing you're old uniform for me, at least once."

"Oh," John blushed. "Why would..." John got up suddenly and moved quickly, he returned a few minutes later with a photo album and blushing handed it to Sherlock. "Here's something to appease your mind for now. I don't know about costumes, Mr. Holmes. We'll have to see." He laughed. Sherlock only chuckled and kissed John sweetly letting him know it was all fine. If that wasn't something he wanted to do, it was okay. He pulled away to lay back down on his stomach to start looking through the photo album.

"Oh my John, you look so handsome." He breathed. "You look absolutely gorgeous in these." He looked at each picture in turn, analyzing it and gathering information. John had never let him look at this album before.

"It might be fun but knowing you I'd end up having to wear something utterly compromising out on a case for being insubordinate." John giggled and rolled over rubbing his hands over Sherlock's back as he watched him thumb through the album. He was definitely blushing now. "Oh... Thank you. I was in a lot better shape then." He sighed as he gazed over a few of the pictures.

"Nonsense, you look just as handsome now." He assured John moving so he could kiss his cheek. "You're just a tad softer now, a civilian soldier, and I love it just as much." He turned to look back at the pictures a smile on his face. "And I would never make you wear something like that on a case... Well not unless you wanted me to make you." He added with a wink. John blushed more and smiled, keeping his attention on the pictures.

"I'll keep that in mind." He watched Sherlock as he looked at the photographs, more than looking at the photos themselves. John wanted to absorb every minute, every detail, so that if anything ever should happen he would have these memories to go back to. He was glad Sherlock was feeling better for the moment and was content to just let his mind absorb the detective's movements. After Sherlock went through the photo album twice, he set it aside and curled up next to his solider.

"Captain Watson, if had been under your command I wouldn't have been to keep my hands off you." He said with a sly grin. "But I despise the heat, so I would not be a soldier." He giggled. John laughed.

"Well that would have shortened my career considerably." He pulled Sherlock to him, turning so they were facing each other. "I was never glad to be injured before but if I hadn't been I might not have met you - and while I wouldn't have known how hollow my life was it never would have been as fulfilling as it is now beside you." Sherlock blushed because he knew that John getting shot was the sole reason they had met. He had one simple injury that could have taken John's life, to thank for them being together. He smiled at John, bringing a hand to his arm as he started to stroke up to his once injured shoulder gently.

"This is going to sound awful of me but I'm pretty grateful you were shot." Sherlock whispered, blushing just slightly.

"If I didn't know what you might mean by that I might think you sounded awful. But I know you well enough to know you don't really want me hurt." John's voice was soft as he spoke, his eyes half closed as he simply sank into the comfort of the moment. "I never imagined this is what things would be like, our love... But then again who can ever imagine where our lives will take us." He gently put a finger on Sherlock's cheek. "I love it when you blush." Sherlock felt his cheeks warm and he looked away.

"There is no possible way you could love my silly blush. I look like an over grown cherry." He argued, but he didn't dare pull away from John. He got as close as possible and let his warmth simply engulf him. "You look amazing when you blush though. Your skin is tan so when blush it's this lovely shade of pink under your skin." John blushed some at the explanation and their eyes locked together.

"You don't look like a cherry," John giggled softly. "You look like a man whose never let himself feel before and it's terribly endearing, at least to me." He whispered softly his mouth close to Sherlock's. "Well you make me blush enough to be sure." His body was soft but still reveling in the closeness they were sharing, a sort of sweetness that he knew could disappear at any moment. "It's so fascinating to watch how you change when it's just us. How you are so different when the rest of the world isn't watching... When it's just John and Sherlock." Sherlock let his eyes close. Making sure this entire moment was neatly tucked away into his mind palace.

"I don't have to hide anything with you, John. I can simply be myself. I'm not afraid to show you my feelings anymore. I trust you. I don't trust anyone else with my true self. Just you," He opened his eyes to smile at John. "I love you. I never thought I would say those words to anyone else in the world, and I would never say them to anyone but you. I would never trust another person with my feelings, save for you."

"That makes me the luckiest man in the world." John whispered softly his eyes just burning into Sherlock's as he observed him. He let one hand reach up and caress Sherlock's cheek as they lay there face to face in their little fort. The sweet ridiculousness of it all just warming him throughout his whole body. He let Sherlock lead and for the moment he was content to just stay hidden in there forever.

"I'm tired, John." Sherlock said with a yawn as he let his eyes close once more. "I'm going to take a nap." He hid his face in John's chest and let out a deep breath. "If my brother or Lestrade stops by again... Just push them down the stairs," He said with a smirk.

"Mmm, but I'd have to get up to do that." John chuckled softly, snuggling the detective against himself as he closed his own eyes. It was so warm and comfortable there. "Sleep well, love." He whispered in his ear, his eyes closing as he sank to sleep much quicker than he intended to.

Sherlock did just that, he drifted off to a peaceful sleep that lasted what felt like seconds but were actually hours. He jumped awake when he heard a knocking at the door. Knocking at the door, Not Lestrade or Mycroft. Mrs. Hudson would have the sense to come up if Lestrade or Mycroft were coming over to make sure John and Sherlock were clothed. There was only one option left. Victor. The bastard had come early. Sherlock woke John quickly, shaking him awake.

"Go into the bedroom and lock the door. Now." He ordered as he jumped onto his feet and grabbed another blanket off the couch to wrap himself up in. "Now, John, Go." He hissed in a whisper. John was bleary eyed and grunted, rolling up but he went from sleep to full alert potential-danger-is-afoot-awareness in thirty seconds.  
"Alright, alright but if you need me..." John whispered and pulled himself up. He went into Sherlock's room and closed the door, grabbing his phone and silencing it again on the way. He lay there straining to listen, to observe and hear everything without giving himself away.

Sherlock wrapped the blanket around him the best he could before he took a long deep breath and opened the door. Victor Trevor was a tad shorter than him but his size didn't make him any less dangerous. He had short brown cropped hair and these deep smoky blue eyes that Sherlock truly did love and he always had some sort of facial hair. It honestly looked good on him. What didn't look good on him however were the dark circles under his eyes and the track marks on his arms. Unlike Sherlock, he had been doing drugs for so long they had a lasting effect on his body. He was skinnier and a lot paler than when they first met so many years ago. It was sort of sad considering he had been so young and handsome when they first met and now he looked twice his age because of the drug use. Part of Sherlock wanted to see if he could convince Victor to seek help. He wasn't a bad person at heart the drugs had turned him into a heartless bastard but when they had first met Victor was charismatic and had a bright future in business.

They'd met at University and at first Sherlock considered him to be a friend, his only and best friend actually. But soon they had become something more, which was bound to happen considering Sherlock didn't have anyone else in his life to have feelings for. But Sherlock had never been truly committed to the relationship, he could never fully trust Victor with his feelings. Which was why they never went further than a few heated make out sessions on his couch. Victor had always been a bit on the rough side and despite his intellect he liked the finer things in life like drinking and partying. He family was wealthy and he saw no reason to take school as anything more than an extended vacation. Sherlock had been so desperate for the friendship he'd tried to keep up with Victor, going so far as partying with him. But once Victor had introduced the drugs he'd wanted to break things off with him. He'd do all the drinking and partying but drugs were where he drew the line. They could have a lasting effect on his mind and he knew he couldn't risk that. But Victor knew how to draw Sherlock in, knew how much his never quiet mind troubled him. So one night while he and Victor were alone at Victor's flat all it took was one whispered promise in his ear, the whispered promise that all those nasty thoughts in his head would go silent - to draw him in.

_"It will be quiet. You won't hear a thing."_

That was all Sherlock had ever wanted, he had tried other methods: drinking, meditation, medication. But nothing worked. Sherlock felt there could be no harm of trying the drugs just one time, he knew enough about drugs that he was sure he could control himself and not become addicted. But that's how it all began, just once. Soon after he was using regularly and it didn't take long for Mycroft to discover what Victor had gotten Sherlock addicted to and he moved Sherlock to a different University and ordered him to stay away from Victor. Sherlock however took his words at face value, he'd broken off his personal relationship with Victor but he could still have a business relationship with him, specifically purchasing more drugs. They would meet, usually not too far from Sherlock's new university. Sherlock tensed as he remembered those meetings, usually he had the money for the drugs but sometimes he couldn't get enough cash without raising Mycroft's suspicions so he had to pay in other ways. He reassured himself using the fact that all he had ever done was give Victor blow jobs, knowing he never could have gone further than that because it made him feel like a whore. But he'd done what he needed to do to get what he wanted, so he'd never complained. Then things had deteoriated further and gotten more complicated once school was finished. Sherlock had become reliant on the drugs and his addiction got out of control. He'd overdosed so badly the police had been called and Lestrade had been the officer who found him. Mycroft had Sherlock taken immediately to rehab and managed to even have Victor arrested and put in prison for two years.

He'd gotten clean because of rehab but a few years later he'd relapsed again before Lestrade started offering him cases and helped him stay clean until he met John. He tensed as he thought about the reason that had sent him to Victor again, desperate to relieve the confusion his feelings for John had brought him. Three months he'd been able to stay undetected but now... Now John knew and he'd promised to try to stop this habit. He wanted to stop because he hated the smug look on Victor's face every time he had to meet him so secretly either at the flat when John wasn't home or in some dark alley miles away just to keep John in the dark. The same sort of look that Victor was wearing now.

"Victor," he greeted flatly and Victor grinned.

"Sherly," Victor replied as he pushed past Sherlock to enter the flat.

"Please, certainly do come in," he muttered angrily, barely moving so Victor could seep into the room. Victor eyed the fort curiously a smile on his lips before he turned to look back at Sherlock.

"Aren't you a bit old to still be playing pirates, Sherly?" Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, moving into the kitchen to grab his wallet and returning to the room with crossed arms.

"You lied. You said you would come tomorrow."

"You kept me waiting, I got bored." Victor said with a simple sigh as he poked at the fort with his foot. "Where's that  _boyfriend_  of yours?" He asked curiously with a smirk at Sherlock as he handed him a fist full of money.

"Out." He lied easily, keeping his eyes hardened. Victor chuckled as he stuffed the money into the front of his hoodie pocket.

"Does he know that you're still hooked on this stuff?" His tone was dark as he moved closer to Sherlock. "Does he know about me? Does he know about our history together?" Sherlock scoffed.

"History? Victor, you were my boyfriend for two years and I never even let you take me to bed."

"Prude." He retorted with a laugh. "But he does know all those lovely little things you did when you couldn't pay me, right? He has to know about that." Sherlock glared at him.

"He doesn't have to know anything." Victor gave a wince and looked at Sherlock with a shrug.

"I know you don't have much experience with boyfriends, Sherly but you really should tell him about me. I mean, you're supposed to if you  _really care_  about him." Sherlock chose to ignore this statement as he opened the door Victor. Victor's smirk was too high on his lips, he was enjoying this too much. Sherlock wanted him out.

"Go. I paid you. Now go." Sherlock snapped and Victor eyed him curiously.

"What's the rush, Love? You haven't even bought yourself a new stash yet. See? I brought you some. It's good too." He tossed a brown paper bag at Sherlock who caught it easily on instinct.

"Not interested." He muttered and Victor went wide eyed, a little shocked at first but then he smiled.

"Oh! Your little doctor got you walking a straight line now, yea?" He chuckled darkly, teasing Sherlock. "And here I thought he was the reason you were using again. Isn't that what you said? You started to care about him and you tried to use drugs to block those feelings out. So what did he find out or something?" Victor laughed again. "No, your idiot brother told him didn't he? Set your little guard dog on you. So what, is he  _really_  your  _boyfriend_  now?" Victor seemed amused by all of this and that made Sherlock's stomach turn.

"Yes he is and I really am quitting so I won't be seeing you again unless it's dead on the news." Sherlock snapped again, trying to keep his emotion out of his voice and off his face. Victor dramatically placed a hand over his heart and mocked a fainting spell.

"You're wounding me, Love. But I'll be fine. I've been fine for years without you. I'm fine now." He took the bag from Sherlock and began heading for the door. "But are you sure about this, Sherly? Because once I leave, I'm not dealing with you again. You're brother is already on my ass, I don't really think you're worth the risk anymore. Honestly, though aren't you worried about the withdrawals?" Sherlock froze, his heart starting to pound his chest. Victor's smirk hitched higher as Sherlock's face betrayed him.

"Oh you are. I can see it on your face," He chuckled.

"I'm not." Sherlock lied.

"You fucking liar." He turned back and rounded on Sherlock, who tensed. "You are. Don't even try to lie to me. You're scared. Hell, I would be too. Withdrawals were always hard for you. You start having those hallucinations." Sherlock didn't say a word he just opened the door more. "Go."Victor laughed as he stepped outside but he leaned close to Sherlock in the doorway his lips almost touching Sherlock's.

"Look, because I give a shit about you and I know how fucking insane your withdrawals can be... I'll even give you this for free." He handed the bag to Sherlock who took it without thinking. "See, you are scared. You're terrified. I understand. Just be careful, Love." He pecked his lips before he started to walk down the stairs. Sherlock gripped the bag hard in his hands, shaking slightly as he just watched Victor move.

"Have  _you_  ever thought about quitting, Victor?" He asked and Victor scoffed as he stood on the last step to glance over his shoulder at Sherlock.

"Too late for me, Sherly. I think I'd die without this stuff."

"You wouldn't." Victor shook his head and began heading for the door.

"Have a nice life, Sherlock."

When he was gone Sherlock closed the flat door and looked down at the bag in his hands. What if he did start going through those withdrawals again? He stared at the bag not even when John unlocked the door and stepped into the living room. The first emotion that ran through John when he took in the scene before him in the living room was rage but he let it pass quickly. He'd told Sherlock he would trust him, so he would... Or at least he would try. He couldn't pretend this didn't hurt though. Finding out that Sherlock not only was using but he was letting the drug dealer come to  _their_  flat? He let the emotion take its course but he fought the urge to cross his arms. He reminded himself that Sherlock was still an addict and sometimes he will fall...

_Don't give up now, John Watson._

"Who was that?" John's voice was soft and he tried to make his tone one of curiosity not accusation. His voice caught though because the fear was back on Sherlock's face and it knocked the air out of him. He came over to Sherlock gently placing a hand on his arm. "Love? It's time for another dose of the medicine too. Talk to me, please?" He was almost begging, completely afraid of losing Sherlock to the fear on his face.

"Get it away from me." Sherlock begged as he dropped the brown bag to the floor. "Get it away. Get it far away." He pleaded desperately as he went back into the fort and curled himself in a ball as he started to shake. "Throw them away. Take them some place I can't find them. I don't need them around me,  _please,_ John." John tried to think of where he could put it for now. He knew if he took it to his room Sherlock would be able to guess where it was. He didn't know what to do so he hid it the best he could before coming and wrapping around Sherlock as best he could.  
"Talk to me Sherlock, please."

"I don't want to talk about it." He almost shouted but then softened when he heard John inhale a sharp breath. "Not because I don't trust you, John. Because I don't think I can talk about it right now!" He snapped not meaning to sound so angry but he couldn't stop himself. He almost started to cry because he couldn't control his emotion in this moment, the fear of the withdrawals almost completely overwhelming him. He took a shaking breath and hugged John tighter. "I can't. Not right now. I can't, John. I'm sorry. I can't. I'm so sorry." John's voice caught in his throat so he just rubbed Sherlock's back.

He relaxed his grip on Sherlock trying to show him that if he needed space he could have it. He was afraid, he knew he had heard a man's voice and he heard the tones even though he could not hear the words. Something had happened, danger was still there, someone had upset his lover. It made his face tighten with a sort of possessive anger but he didn't speak and his touch stayed relaxed. If someone hurt Sherlock he wouldn't just hurt them he would kill them. After what must have been a good half hour, during which Sherlock spent with his eyes squeezed closed fighting the urge to want to go look for the drugs and the ache in his chest that said he needed to cry, he relaxed his grip on John and finally opened his eyes. He took a shaking breath and looked up into John's eyes.

"I-I'm sorry." He whispered the hint of tears still in his eyes on the verge of spilling over into real tears. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't... I shouldn't have let him... He made me think I needed them." Sherlock wanted John to understand that he didn't intend to have more drugs brought into the house.

"Love, it's okay. This is scary for both of us." He whispered, still exactly where he had been. He didn't move. "I told you I trust you. I won't lie that I am very worried and scared but I trust and love you. But you have to let me give you the next dose or the withdrawals are going to be hell. I have seen them use this med before to help people coming off the drugs, that's why I gave it to you. I can promise I'm not going anywhere." He held up his phone smirking, turning it so Sherlock could read the text. Sherlock's eyes flicked over the message quickly but didn't seem to really take it in.

_John, in recompense for your care I am transferring a small retainer to your account. Please consider yourself my brother's personal doctor from now on. I have heard of your problem with the management of the clinic. That's the best I can do. MH_

"Okay," Sherlock said, suddenly sitting up. "Give it to me. I need it. Please. I don't want to start going through them, John. I start imagining things... You need to give it to me now, please." He was already shaking wishing he could just shoot up and make all this pain go away. John was taken aback but the sudden shift in Sherlock's eagerness. "Now, John. Please." He whispered, shutting his eyes tight. "I'm close to experiencing them already and I can't."

"Sherlock, you have to trust me. I'm the doctor." He whispered trying to soothe him. "Whatever you see, whatever it is, I can help you with it. The pain, the visions, all of it. But you have to let me take care of you." John retrieved the medicine and gave Sherlock the appropriate dose. "If you weren't afraid I would be worried. But I am not going anywhere. I will protect you and nothing," he growled, " _Nothing_ in this world can make me leave." He ran his hands over Sherlock again, trying to draw him out of his mind and into the moment. "Come on love, focus on me. I have always been your anchor don't let that change now. I'm right here." He pressed soft kisses over Sherlock's cheeks, desperate to get his attention. "I told you whatever you need from me is yours."

"I'm trying," Sherlock whimpered as he took John's face into his hands. "I'm trying to focus on you." He gazed into his eyes trying to keep his mind there, to keep it with John. He couldn't let Victor get to him. He didn't need the drugs. He didn't need them. John would be here. John would be here to help him through it. But Christ he hated when he imagined things. He got violent when he imagined things. He would never forgive himself he ever hurt John in anyway. He pressed his nose to John's, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you," He whispered, "I hurt people when I start seeing things, John."

"If it gets to bad I can sedate you. I have enough to keep you out for three days." John whispered, cuddling Sherlock close. "We will get through this together. You aren't alone this time."

"I don't want to be sedated." Sherlock said sounding a bit panicked. His nightmares were even worse when he was under sedation. "Please, I don't want that. I don't want this. I don't want to go through this." He hugged John as tightly as possible. "I want to stay sane." He said firmly. "Fuck, Victor. I wish I had never met the bastard." He hissed angrily.

"I promise its worst case scenario." John whispered and pressed his mouth to Sherlock's cheek and jaw, trying to reassure him. "I'm sorry love, but this is the consequence of you using the drugs. I promise to do all I can but for now it's going to be crap." He was blunt but his voice was full of love. "We can do this. Together." Suddenly something clicked in Sherlock's mind and he growled.

"He scared me on purpose. That fucking prick." Sherlock hissed completely focused on what Victor had done to him. It was almost like he didn't even hear John. Victor had scared him. He wanted to him to be scared. He wanted him to use again so he'd come to buy from him again. He didn't care that he was trying to get clean, all that mattered to him was making sure he didn't lose a customer. "I should have fucking punched him in the face for doing this to me. If I see him again I swear I will."

Sherlock couldn't focus on John at the moment, his mind racing away as he planned all the violent things he would do the next time he saw Victor. It was all he could focus on. John didn't know what to do so he just kept running his hand over Sherlock. He knew this pattern. Sherlock was stuck in a cycle in his mind, but he'd... What hoped he could work miracles?... He tugged at Sherlock's sheet until he found a way to slip his fingers against Sherlock's skin using a bit of pressure to massage his shoulders, trying to coax the muscles to let go when the mind wouldn't.

_I have to try..._

Sherlock didn't even notice his sheet being pulled down off his shoulders. He was completely detached from his body and he couldn't think of anything but Victor. His mind raced filled with memories of his history with Victor and how his life would have been better if the two of them had never met. It took a few minutes but suddenly he became aware of John's hands massaging his shoulders. How long had he been doing that? How long had John been working to get his body to relax when his mind couldn't? Had John spoken to him and he'd missed it? Sherlock's mind ground to a halt for a second and he turned his head to look at John with lost, confused eyes.

"You don't have to do this, John." He whispered. "You should get away from me. I'm becoming violent. All I keep thinking of hurting Victor and it may not be safe for you to stay near me."

"Then that just means you  _need_  me here. This is the first time I've had your attention in almost eight minutes." John whispered and continued his work. "Brood all you want, Sherlock. I'm your doctor, your partner, and your lover - I'm going to take care of you the best way I know how. You've been dangerous before, hell you attacked me... But we both know I can hold my own." He kept up his work, smoothing over the muscles with expert care. "You need me and I won't leave you when you need me the most." Eight minutes? That wasn't too bad. He knew they both were used to the times when his mind would get so stuck that nothing could get attention for three days. Eight minutes was almost nothing in comparison. He leaned into John's touch trying again to keep his mind here with John. He wanted to stay with John. Victor wasn't important. John was.

"I'm not brooding." Sherlock argued, trying to his best to focus on his lover. "I don't brood." He mumbled even though he knew very well that he did.

"Right," John said attempting to be serious but a smirk toyed at the corner of his mouth. "What did you do before, when you went through this by yourself? Did Mycroft even try to help?" He asked quietly, continuing his work but letting his hands slide further down Sherlock's back. "It's okay if you get stuck Sherlock, you're not alone this time. I'm here and I'll figure out how to make you come back."

"For a while." Sherlock answered. "But after a while he figured that since he couldn't help me it'd be best to leave me alone. I honestly couldn't tell a difference. But it did give me a bit of scare once I finally came back and he wasn't there." Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of John's breathing. "Just keep talking. As long as we keep talking I'm here. I can't let my mind wander if you're speaking because I want to hear everything you say."

"Hm..." John said softly and then nodded. "Okay I'll just ramble about myself." He grinned when Sherlock looked eagerly interested. "I decided I wanted to join the military when I was sixteen, getting trained at St. Bart's was really just another way to get there. I wanted to get out of my house, away from my family and all the alcoholism they embody. So I worked really hard in school to prepare, then when I was done I joined right away. I was initially supposed to work with the Americans in a hospital in Germany, but they asked me if I wanted to be a battlefield medic because I did so well under pressure. So I took the position and was whisked off to Afghanistan..." He continued on telling Sherlock some of the stories of being in the field, some of the pranks he and his war buddies played, and of the day he was injured. Talking on and on to give Sherlock something to focus on, while holding him close. Sherlock listened very careful, managing to actually laugh, smile, or sometimes frown depending on what he talked about. His face tightened when he talked about getting hurt but he was there in the moment. He stayed with John. His mind not wandering at all.

"When we met, what did you honestly think about me?" Sherlock asked curiously, smiling up at John. "I was trying so hard to impress you once I figured out you were looking for a flat mate, could you tell?" He asked, his hand now stroking John's leg as he gazed into his eyes.

"I couldn't tell right away," He laughed. "I figured it out later. I was honestly completely enamored with you I think, though I didn't know it then. Not only were you absolutely gorgeous to watch work but you just knew everything there was to know about me in one go. I'd carefully crafted my persona after I got back to hide a lot of what happened, but you just saw straight through it. I was sort of just blown away. Stamford talked to me a little bit after you left and he told me that you were not like other people. Then when I found your website... Well I was just absolutely convinced I needed to get to know you better. Ella, my therapist, she told me to write that stupid blog about everything that happened to me. But nothing ever did, just nightmares and day after day of everything falling down around my ears. But then you were there and suddenly there was a new flat to look at, a mysterious man to investigate, and just... I'm sure you felt it. That pull that was there the moment you looked me in the eyes. I might have thought I didn't and couldn't love men but I couldn't ignore that." He blushed. "I was sort of upset I looked so half assed that day. I hadn't really done much with my appearance..."

"You looked handsome." Sherlock assured him sounding rather amused. "You calmed your hair, shaved, and looked pretty clean to me." He offered a small kiss to John's hands because it was within reach. "But I did feel it, that pull. The moment we locked eyes." His voice betrayed the same emotion John felt clawing in his chest as they talked about it. "I just... I knew that you were important. I couldn't figure out how or why, but I knew if you didn't live with me, my life would be awfully dull." He relaxed which a very noticeable thing because every tense muscle just let go. "I do remember thinking that you were handsome. I tried but I couldn't stop myself thinking that." John blushed slightly.

"Though that comment about the riding crop was wholly indecent." He grinned and leaned in kissing Sherlock softly. "I knew after that meeting that my life was going to change and I was pretty sure that there was no way it could get worse. I was however completely unprepared for how much  _better_  it was going to be. No place has ever felt like home the way this place does." He pulled Sherlock closer, nuzzling his nose into his hair. "But even knowing that nowhere is home without you."

"Whenever you go out with your- well, when you used to go out with your girlfriends and stay the night, I could never sleep." He confessed. "You weren't here and it didn't feel right. I didn't feel right not having you in this flat." Sherlock smiled as he thought of something. "You know all those times I made you come home because it was an 'emergency' or I need your help with an experiment? I didn't. I just couldn't sleep and wanted you to come home." He chuckled. "You always got so furious with me."

"That's because it was come home, all the way across London to hand me my phone that's in my pocket." He giggled. His pressed his mouth to Sherlock's ear. "But I enjoyed it. Those poor girls, I would have dumped them in the Thames on a moment's notice for you." Sherlock felt his cheeks warm and he smiled as he felt John's lips on his ear.

"You would now. Before I had to make ups silly excuses to make you come home to me." He grabbed John's arms and carefully wrapped them around himself. "I do feel a tad guilty for making your dates dislike you. But I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want you out with them and I didn't know why or how to make it stop. I probably should have said something but that was before I properly knew I had feelings for you."

"I did it then too, Sherlock. I just didn't know why." He grinned. "You are like the sun to me. You crowd out anyone else because what else can possibly compare to you? There is nothing, no one that could. You are the most amazing person I have ever met or will meet." Sherlock blushed deeply and brought his lips to John's and kissed him softly.

"Thank you," He whispered, finally feeling back in control of his mind. John looked confused and blushed. "For keeping me anchored." He explained softly, "I was terrified I was about to spiral out of control but now I'm calm. I've never felt like this when I get stuck, thank you."

"Well you have never had me here before..." He blushed and leaned into Sherlock's touch. "I will always anchor you."

"We can talk about  _it_  now," Sherlock suggested with a sigh. He lay down pulling John with him as he wrapped his arms back around John. "I'm alright now. We can talk about what just happened if you want."

"Alright, so tell me what happened." He said it quietly, holding Sherlock close. "Was that Victor?"

"Yes." Sherlock whispered running his hands over John's back just to focus on something. "He came by because I owed him some money for the drugs you found me with the other night." He blushed, feeling rather embarrassed of himself. "I almost had him out the door when he handed me that bag 'for free.' He said he was worried about me going through withdrawals and in the moment I didn't have the strength to make him take them back."

"He was important to you, wasn't he?" He asked it gently, with love not anger. "It hurts you to see him that way... And that he can hurt you like this..." Sherlock was surprised, as he always was, when he heard his emotion so easily explained by John.

"Did you hear any of our conversation?" He asked curiously. Hoping John had at least heard some of it so he wouldn't actually have to tell him. "He...He was my first, boyfriend." He whispered, not really sure why he felt nervous about telling John that. He bit his bottom lip nervously.

"No... I just heard your tones. I didn't want to move because you were so afraid.." John's voice caught, revealing just how much Sherlock's fear had affected him. "But I could tell from the tone there was some bond there."

"I'm sorry I scared you," Sherlock whispered wishing he had handled the situation a bit more calmly. He couldn't stop himself from feeling terrified of him though. Victor knew how to manipulate him. He carried a gun around with him and Sherlock felt he had a good reason to be afraid. "And our bond wasn't that deep. I mean...I cared about him but I didn't love him."

"It's alright for you to be afraid, Sherlock. It just... You don't do it that often, so when you are afraid that's when I know it's really bad." He reached up and ran his fingers over Sherlock's cheek. "And caring for him is pretty deep for you. He had power over you," John was whispering even though there was no real reason to do so in their little fort. "He still does. I'm sure that's part of what made it hard to feel things for me. To give me power over you." There was awe in his voice again, as he realized again how much each tiny moment with Sherlock really meant. What Sherlock wad telling him with each action. "I won't let him hurt you anymore." Sherlock gazed into John's eyes, unsure how what sort of power brought John to him. John was slowly giving him reason to believe there was purpose to the universe that might be beyond logical order.

"He didn't mean to at first... But after awhile he stopped looking at me as person and saw just a customer." Sherlock's eyes went wide once he realized something. John watched transfixed as he touched a hand over his lips. "He kissed me before he left. John, I'm sorry. It happened so quickly that I couldn't even pull away. I'm so sorry." He spoke quickly and he was suddenly almost in tears. His inexperience with relationships leading him to fear he was about to lose John. John smiled and pulled Sherlock tighter to him.  
"It's alright Sherlock." He whispered softly, leaning forward and claiming his lips in a deeply passionate but gentle kiss. A kiss that was both reassuring and just a bit dominating, as if John was reinforcing that those lips belonged to him. "It doesn't sound as if you kissed him back and either way I know your heart is mine. A kiss is a kiss, it's not like you had sex with him." The hand on Sherlock's cheek wound its way back into those dark locks, flowing through them easily and reassuringly. "You are so very stressed and anxious... It's okay Sherlock. I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Ever." He tried to make the words firm, reassuring. Sherlock relaxed a bit glad that the kiss wasn't going to ruin anything. He was so utterly lost on the way relationships worked. But John was right he hadn't kissed Victor back. It had been quick and Sherlock didn't even think of kissing him back.

"I'm still sorry, I shouldn't have let him but it happened so fast." He took a breath, trying to stop his heart from beating so hard in his chest. "I worry about him, even though he's a bastard. I worry about him because he wasn't always this way." Sherlock's eyes flicked back and forth as his mind raced again, but John kept him anchored with repeated gentle touches.

"But you can't save him if he doesn't want saving." John said softly, running his hands over the whole of Sherlock's back. "Though it would make sense to want to. But right now we have to focus on getting you back on your feet. On getting you to where you don't need the drugs. And then if you want to..." He wondered if he was being too sentimental or overdoing it but he went with it. "If you want to try to help him I can go with you to talk to him." Sherlock honestly liked that idea but he feared being near Victor at all. He wasn't exactly stable. He also was worried about how easy it was for him to let John say something that logically John had no reason to say.

"I...I don't know if I'm comfortable even being around him anymore, John. Even if you're there. I'm worried he'd figure out some sort of way to manipulate me and he carries a gun so I don't want you near him at all." He hugged John tighter, taking a deep breath. "Thank you for offering to that for me. Maybe we can try that but, I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to be around him."

"We will take it one day at a time, yea?" John asked softly, kissing Sherlock again. "How are you feeling now? What do you need from me in this moment?"

"I'm fine. I just feel... Shaky." Yes, that's exactly how he felt. He felt like his insides were trembling. Hell, he might even be trembling. His mind was trapped on another part of his history with Victor now and he kept thinking about what Victor said. How Victor said that John should know about their history. Sherlock swallowed nervous, knowing the only way to find out would be to ask. "Do you think you should know about my history with him? I mean do you think you should know more about it?" Their eyes met and John was taken aback by the sudden shyness he found there. "Victor thought I should tell you some things I've been keeping from you."

_Christ._

That made it sound bad. John sighed softly and nuzzled into Sherlock more. Trying to let the nervous, jealous sort of clawing sensation that rose in his chest relax and stay off his face.  
"I want you to tell me everything about yourself Sherlock, but I want you to do it when  _you_  think it is best. Not when someone else says to. If you want to tell me I can promise I will listen and not judge. If you aren't ready now, that's fine too." Sherlock took a deep breath. He felt like it was now or never. He had the courage now which made him think it was best to do it now. Not only that but John was being so brave, trying to let Sherlock keep secrets from him when he should really be stripping him bare to see everything that made him up.

"I met him at University, he was my only friend. I'd never had any other friends before so needless to say it eventually turned into something more, but I was never truly able to be myself around him. I kept secrets from him and I wasn't as comfortable being my true self with him like I am with you. I never let him take me to bed but I did kiss him and go out to parties with him. He started using drugs and for awhile I was able to keep that separate from myself, but he talked me into it. He knew exactly what to say to convince me that it was a perfectly logical idea and that's how I became an addict. Mycroft tried to keep me away from him after he found out about my drug habit but it didn't work. I couldn't cut him out completely because even though I broke off our romantic relationship he was still my drug dealer. But..." Sherlock took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "This will be the part you won't like." He whispered, preparing himself for the possibility that John might just jump up and run away. "Sometimes, when I couldn't pay him I'd... I had no other choice but to suck him off." He confessed with his eyes closed not wanting to read John's face. Which he expected to be full of disappointment and anger. "I didn't want to but he suggested it and I rather needed the drugs." John processed the information watching how Sherlock shut down his ability to analyze him. He let himself fall silent for a moment and wondered what Sherlock expected him to feel. He supposed Sherlock expected him to feel angry or disappointed but he didn't feel that way at all. He felt sad for him because he knew what drugs could do, he knew the horrible things addicts did to get the next hit.  
"That's not uncommon in drug addicts though. You can't always pay with cash so you pay with your body." He said it mechanically, because it was a fact. "Thank you for telling me Sherlock," He whispered, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "It much have been very hard for you to have hanging over yourself when you were at the worst." Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, one at a time and found himself even more confused by the look of soft acceptance on John's face.

"You're not angry?" He asked his eyes filled with confusion and awe. "I thought you'd be angry with him, or even me. I thought you'd think I was... Dirty." He felt his cheeks warm with shame as he looked down. "I felt dirty whenever I did it. I never enjoyed it. I wanted you to know because... It would be wrong if I didn't tell you." Sherlock hid his face in John's chest letting out a shaky breath.

"Why on Earth would I be angry?" John asked purely confused. "I am sorry you were ever at such a low point in your life. I'm sorry you feel dirty, but I couldn't be angry. You are an adult Sherlock, you can make decisions on your own. Good or bad. Really thank you for telling me." Sherlock always thought the proper reaction would be anger. Mycroft had been angry, so had Lestrade. But somehow, John wasn't. There again was this confusing man and his completely illogical reactions to everything that threw Sherlock deep into the sea of emotion that he struggled to avoid. A few tears fell down his cheeks as his eyes slowly met John's and he realized that even now, with the absolute worst of himself laid bare between them John was like an immovable force, remaining steady in the ocean during the storm. He pressed John against himself, his mouth finding John's ear and his breath gently rushing over it. He pressed John more tightly to his own chest and sighed softly.

"I'm so lucky to have you." Sherlock whispered and John was very confused but he smiled as he let himself wrap his arms around him and pull him closer.  
"I don't know about luck but I know I love you." He whispered giving Sherlock the space to feel.

"I love you too." Sherlock whispered, feeling that the words were too inadequate in the face of this moment. Wishing he knew a better way to properly show John Watson just how much he meant to him.


	5. War Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double date with Mycroft and Greg works like hostel business meeting. John has gotten Sherlock to behave? But how? Does the promise of seeing him in his old uniform have anything to do with it?   
> ...Most likely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of our best smut yet, who wouldn't want to see John Watson in his old uniform? We finished writing this glorious story today. The only thing left to do is edit and post the rest of the chapters which will happen very soon. Enjoy!

"I want to show you how much I love you, John. You do all these amazing things for me, and I don't do nearly enough for you." Sherlock cupped John's face and kissed him passionately. "I think I'm okay enough to go out. Do you want to go on our first date?" He offered shyly. "We can go to Angelo's, or anywhere else you might want to go. I'll follow you anywhere, John." John blushed because whatever he had expected Sherlock to say that had not been it. He didn't know if he would ever get used to the amount of sentiment Sherlock was able to express in so few words.

"You don't have to do anything more than you are..." He stammered, blushing a bit more. "That said I would love to go on a date with you but any signs you aren't feeling well we come straight home okay? Don't push yourself too much." He looked concerned as he watched Sherlock. "We can always order in and eat here in our fort." He laughed because it was still very ridiculous.

"I think we should go out. I haven't taken you out to eat in a while." Sherlock pressed his lips to Johns for a brief kiss before he crawled out of the fort and walked into his bedroom to get dressed. "Comb your hair, John Watson. We are going out." He commanded sounding a lot happier than usual. Things felt good like this, things felt right now that he knew John loved him back. He felt happy and surprisingly his mind wasn't focused on the absent drugs at all, it was almost perfect. John giggled.  
"Shall I alert our handlers?" John said grandly as he grunted and rolled out of the fort. He started heading up the stairs to get dressed, stopping to peek in on Sherlock as he got ready. Sherlock shot him a warning glare and he giggled and continued on his journey. His heart felt light but he knew the darkness was still lurking. As soon as he entered his room he pulled his pistol out of his end table and made sure it was loaded and the safety on. He didn't think they'd need it but he couldn't stand not having it just in case.

"Oh, please don't." Sherlock groaned at the thought of Mycroft and Greg knowing they were going out. "If you tell them John, we'll end up going on a double date!" He called up stairs as he stood in the living room with just his trousers on. He was buttoning up his purple shirt, the one he knew drove John absolutely mad, when his phone buzzed. He sighed and walked over to see it was from his brother. "Too late, they already know!" He yelled up the stairs, he glared at the bookshelf where he knew there had to be a camera.

_Stop playing 'Big Brother,' Mycroft. It's annoying. You don't need to watch me 24/7. John does that now. SH_

_Judging by who I saw leaving your flat, that isn't entirely true Sherlock. Tell John to put his gun away, he won't need it. Since you are so keen on knowing about Greg and I we will meet you at a restaurant of your choosing. Let's be civilized for once, shall we? MH_

John was digging through his closet, trying to find something decent to wear. He sat back on his haunches for a minute as he noticed a dark blue cardboard box tucked away in the corner. He pulled it close and he smirked widely. Inside the box was his old desert uniform hidden under a bunch of harshly colored old jumpers. A thought fluttered through his head and he became inspired to do something very naughty.  
"Perfect..." He muttered. He had to have something that would fit the bill. Something good enough to tease. He grinned as his thoughts fell on the perfect outfit and he pushed camouflaged pants back into the box under the jumpers and replaced the lid. Then he shifted, sliding the box back in the closet . He stood and opened his dresser, rummaging about for a moment before he found what he wanted. It was a pair of heavier woolen dark blue trousers with a military edge to their style. He pulled on the brown undershirt that was part of his desert uniform before slipping a lighter blue button down shirt on and buttoning it almost all the way up. His dog tag chain just visible along the edge of his neck where the collar lay open. The entire outfit looked like it belonged on a military man, it had been one of the outfits Harry had gotten him while was still in the hospital because he still needed the feel of the clean lines and angles the military uniform provided. He smirked knowing it would drive Sherlock utterly mad. He stepped over to the mirror and fixed his hair before grabbing his black shooting jacket and a dark blue scarf. He wasn't sure where to conceal his pistol so he slipped it into his pocket for the moment and then headed back downstairs slowly.

_...Fine. I'll check with John to see where we're going. SH_

Sherlock hated this, he hated how Mycroft was breathing down the back of his neck like this. He wanted to be alone with John and going out on a double date with Greg and his brother was far from being alone. With a sigh, he pulled on his jacket and began walking up the stairs. He stopped only a few stairs up as he heard John coming down.

"John, Mycroft's intruding on our date with Greg," He whined with a childish pout but the pout quickly faded away once he could actually see John. His breath felt like it was sucked out of his chest and his eyes positively glowed with arousal. He swallowed hard. "You look... gorgeous." He breathed. John's smirk made the entire thing even more fetching and Sherlock didn't know what do to with his hands or his mouth so he compromised by continuing back down the stairs and stopping so John could easily close the gap to him and greet his awkward silence with a deep kiss. He moved his hand to John's jacket pocket and pulled out the pistol. "Sorry love, Mycroft said no guns."

"Well while I won't enjoy not getting to be alone with you, Mycroft and Greg being there just makes my plans a little better." He smirked and took the gun, putting it in the living room safe and locking it before returning to Sherlock. "We can still have fun," He whispered forcing the pout and angry thinking right out of Sherlock's knowing. John pressed himself into Sherlock and snaked a hand up into his hair, gripping and pulling gently. Sherlock grunted and sighed as John obliterated his thoughts. John hummed in approval, his mouth very close to Sherlock's but denying him contact. "Let's play a game, you and me. If we have to deal with Mycroft and Greg, we must be polite." He commanded. "If you can be polite with Mycroft, within reason of course - I mean if the jerk decides to run his mouth too much I won't blame you for getting  _mouthy_ ," He purred as he put his lips to Sherlock's neck, kissing and nipping gently. "But if you can be nice then I will let you choose which room I reward you in when we get home." He whispered in his ear, tugging gently on his hair again. "And maybe, if you're  _very_ good, I'll even put on my old uniform I just stumbled across." He grinned as he pulled back, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's mouth as he did. "So what do you say, pet?" He let go of Sherlock's hair, withdrawing all of his contact from Sherlock in such a way it left him desperately wanting. It took everything Sherlock had not to say, 'Fuck, Dinner' and just stay here so he could try to talk John into putting on that uniform now. He stayed exactly as John had left him, utterly blown apart and desperately submissive to the arousal flashing in John's eyes. So he nodded eagerly suddenly unable to remember how to make proper words come out of his own mouth.

"I... I um... I ah," He muttered softly, his breath heaving through his chest.

_Shit._

He coughed softly, giving off the impression of trying to clear his throat but really trying to make his brain function again. It was utterly debilitating how easily John could slip into that controlling position and completely derail all of Sherlock's thinking. His eyes searched John's for a long moment before he finally felt his breath return to a more normal pattern and he felt himself capable of speaking again. John meanwhile just kept his arms crossed and looked amused.

"I'll be the most well behaved person there." He said overeagerly but sounding a bit more confident than he had a few moments ago. His cheeks were horribly flushed as he smiled at John, his mind still entirely unable to process what had just happened. "Uh, would you like to go to Angelo's?" He asked, suddenly remembering that they were supposed to choose a restaurant. "I have to tell the lovely couple where to meet us." He said sarcastically, his brain still muddled but returning to normal slowly. John smirked and enjoyed the horrible ego boost he got from watching Sherlock founder because of what he had done.  
"Angelo's would be lovely. Plus it's our turf." He grinned again and Sherlock licked his lips nervously. "So if they want to play the double date game they will have to play on our terms, even if we have to play dirty." John was having far too much fun and it was doing horrible things to Sherlock. Horribly wonderful things. "How many times do you think I can make Greg blush?" John winked and asked conversationally. He smoothed down his hair on instinct and retrieved his black shined shoes, completing his pseudo military look. Sherlock's eyes followed every move he made, already feeling like he was somehow in an unspoken manner being dominated by John.

"It won't be that easy, he doesn't embarrass that easy but it can be done." Sherlock supplied eagerly as he grabbed his jacket and scarf without even looking. "And I would gladly embarrass my brother tonight but I  _promised_  to behave." He smirked as he watched John put on his shoes. He wanted nothing more than to strip that smirk off John's face and pound him into the couch. He took a deep breath trying to keep his mind focused. "But you can embarrass him for me," He offered with a hopeful smile. "It's very easy to do." He assured his lover. When John walked toward him with  _that_  outfit complete Sherlock smirked. "If I say you look very mind blowingly handsome and incredibly sexy in that outfit would I be misbehaving?" His grin hitched higher as his eyes sparkled and met John's. John smirked.

_We're going to Angelo's. About to leave now. Meet you two there. SH_

"No, it's actually rather nice." John grinned and pulled Sherlock to him forcing him to bend down for a heated kiss that once again obliterated Sherlock's thoughts. "Don't worry, Mycroft will be plenty embarrassed by the time I'm through." John felt more confident than he had in awhile and he also felt very possessive of Sherlock. The feelings mixed together in his chest and created something that was dangerously intoxicating. He wanted to just throw that long lean detective over the dining room table and ravage him senseless. Mark him as  _his_. He knew where the jealousy came from but he was sort of enjoying the idea of taking it out on Mycroft, after all the man had been being rather annoying as of late. "After all he has never really been to dinner with us, and Greg seemed pretty flustered when he thought Mycroft told us about their little relationship." He slipped his hand into Sherlock's as he headed for the door.

_We will be there shortly. MH_

Sherlock chuckled, wrapping an arm around John as they started to walk down the stairs. He held John close to himself, a bit protectively. Both of them using unspoken body language that anyone who saw them would understand. Stay away from him, he's  _mine_.

"He was. I think my brother has given him the impression that their relationship could never be public." He wanted to keep John close to him. No, it was more than that, he  _needed_  him close. He kissed John's temple as they stepped out into the cold night, enjoying watching the way John's skin reacted to the chill. Sherlock looked around for a moment taking in the scenery as it had been a while since he was actually outside and in control of his own faculties. "I didn't know it was going to be this cold," He muttered as he wrapped his coat more firmly around himself, watching as John fixed his scarf and buttoned up his jacket.

"Maybe you need more jumpers." John teased but leaned into Sherlock, the two of them using the other for warmth. "I doubt he would want anyone to ever know he had a feeling of any sort. Some sort of Holmes thing... I think." John let his fingers worm their way up, pressing a gentle but firm pressure on Sherlock's wrist. It was a commanding and possessive sort of touch and it made Sherlock's heart flutter. "I think it's nice out. You could always flip up your collar and be bloody delicious with that unaffected I-have-amazing-cheekbones-and-I-just-solved-something look."

"Me? Jumpers?" Sherlock asked, his face screwing up at the thought. "I don't think jumpers were made for me." He said simply, smiling at John. He moved a bit closer his lips hovering near his ear. "Maybe I'll wear one of yours around the flat though. Maybe it and nothing else." He whispered into his ear, leaving a gentle kiss before he pulled away. John went slightly pink and Sherlock grinned. At the suggestion about his coat collar he turned it up swiftly and gave John a challenging stare before he took John's hand again and held it tightly. "We're getting a cab. A nice, warm, heated cab." He said playfully but with a stern edge to his voice. Sherlock flagged down a cab and once one finally stopped for them, He let go of John's hand so he could open the door for him. "After you, John."

"You know, we never think twice about getting in these things." He mumbled as he got in. "Even after what happened." As soon as Sherlock joined him he took his hand again, enjoying this free license to touch. Sherlock simply shrugged. "Why do you think Mycroft is so keen on this double date business?" Sherlock squeezed John's hand tightly surprised that doing something like that in public didn't bother him at all. In fact it made him pleasantly happy. He gave the cabbie the address and turned to look at John with a sigh.

"My brother pretends he's not nosy but it's obvious that he is. This little double date is basically a chance for him to sum us up as couple. Rather to see if he approves of you as my partner. He also wants to see if you've been taking proper care of me. Since we keep kicking him out of the flat he can't do it his way, so he's trying to find another one. He's just being his normal boring and annoying controlling self."

"Greg deserves better." John said with a smirk but he didn't really mean it. Mycroft could be alright, sometimes. John knew he was privileged to see a different side of both the Holmes brothers that the world didn't get to see. "I don't care what he thinks about us. Never have and I'm certainly not about to start caring now. But he needs to give you space."Sherlock nodded. He completely agreed with John. His brother seemed to have very poor timing when it came to his needs. When Sherlock needed him he was never there. Then when Sherlock didn't need him he was there smothering him with unwanted attention.

"He's doing it out of some sort of love or brotherly devotion. I know that but he can never properly understand when I need him and when I need to be away from him."

"Maybe you should tell him that?" John offered softly. "He is always messing things up. But he seems to think I do some good in your life... Or did until yesterday at least."

"There is no talking to Mycroft, John." Sherlock with a bit a frown. "It's like talking to wall. You can argue with it all day and it won't budge." He blushed at the smirk on John's face, which clearly said: 'Oh, what's that like?' "Sod off." He snapped but laughed. "I think that's why my father chose him to take over his job. He's always been a stubborn know it all. Which is exactly what my father was."

"Your father used to do Mycroft's..." John paused. "Were you upset you didn't get it?" He ran his thumb over the back of Sherlock's hand without even thinking about it.

"God no." Sherlock chuckled, his eyes turned to look out the window of the cab. "I never wanted that... position. My father was uptight, cold, nosy, and a downright know it all. The way my father treated me growing up made me want to be nothing like him. Mycroft however, he always wanted to be like my father. It might sound like I don't like my father he was a great man in a business sense... Just not a great father."

"Sometimes Dads are like that, yea?" John offered softly, swiping his thumb over Sherlock's hand again. "I like being able to do this." John smiled and squeezed Sherlock's hand to indicate his point. Sherlock's cheeks warmed a bit and he leaned closer place a soft kiss to John's cheek.

"Me too." He whispered and he noticed the cabbie up front roll his eyes. Sherlock grinned and leaned to whisper in John's ear. "Don't be alarmed but we have a slightly homophobic man driving us. He thinks we're being annoying now, but we can be much more annoying, can't we?" He asked as he moved his lips to John's jaw and then his lips.

"Oh you naughty boy." John groaned softly, reaching up and putting his hand in Sherlock's hair. "That's not quite behaving is it?" He grinned. "We'll be in the papers again. Mycroft wont like that." But John gave as good as he got with the kisses, pulling Sherlock into him hard.

"Mycroft doesn't like anything." Sherlock said simply as he continued to kiss John in back of the cab, pushing John down a bit so they wouldn't be gawked at by the cabbie.  
"Why couldn't he have picked some place nicer?" Mycroft grumbled as Greg got in the car. "We are meeting then at Angelo's. Thank you for agreeing to come." He was tense, his phone idle in his hand.

"No problem," Greg said with a soft smile as he slid across the seat to sit next to Mycroft. "Oh stop making that face," He told Mycroft firmly once he saw the very faint sight of a pout on his lips. "Angelo's is a very nice place. I've been there many times." He tried to assure his rather picky partner, smirking as he did. "And before you even ask, yes, I do remember all the expensive restaurants you have taking me to  _and_ yesI still think Angelo has a very nice little place."

"Fine." Mycroft conceded but his mouth was still fixed in a thin line. "What do you make of all of this? Of them? Now isn't exactly the opportune moment to confess their feelings for one another, is it?" Greg gave a sigh, resting a hand on Mycroft's knee. For a man who claimed to be detached he could worry himself sick about Sherlock.

"I think it's about damn time." He said simply. Mycroft nodded softly, indicating that Greg was free to continue and that was one reason he liked being around Mycroft so much. The elder Holmes let him express his opinions in a very open environment without getting into an argument. It was very different than trying to converse with Sherlock. "They've been having eye sex from across the room since the moment they met each other, Molly told me." He smirked. "I was just waiting for the day they finally admitted how they felt to each other." He grinned up at Mycroft, "Don't you fucking tell them this but I won a great deal of money in the pool at the yard because I said they would finally get together this year." He said it with a note of victory in his voice. "Everyone else at the Yard really expected it to take another year or two."

"You all had a money pool on Sherlock developing a love life?" Mycroft sighed and his mouth tightened, his tone indicated he thought the very idea was ridiculous. "John has been an interesting catalyst in his life, I can't deny that." Mycroft conceded, taking a moment to reset his countenance before continuing. "I know for a fact we would have lost my brother several times throughout the years without him at Sherlock's side. But now I worry Sherlock is simply trading one addiction for another..." Greg sighed as Mycroft tensed. He was in his worrying mood. He wouldn't laugh when he got like this, at least not for awhile. When he got this worried his sense of humor just went on holiday and it took forever for him to find it again. That also usually meant he knew something about the scene they were heading into and wasn't open to putting Greg on his guard.

"You think he's getting addict to John?" Greg quirked an eyebrow as he put the pieces together. "Which would mean he's getting addict to love..." He paused and a smile broke out over his face. "That's not a bad thing." He assured his boyfriend. "I think there's even a song or two about it." He added with a smile, trying to ease Mycroft's mind.

"I don't..." Mycroft paused as he looked at Greg, realizing Greg was trying to mollify him. "Yes, I think John is his new drug. I worry how John may fall prey to his schemes to use and be at his mercy again."

"Schemes?" Greg asked with disbelief. He shook his head. "No. How much scheming has Sherlock been up to? None." He said firmly when Mycroft pointed out the evidence of Victor's surprise visit, Greg sighed. Of course he would know about the comings and goings of everyone at Baker Street. Mycroft had cameras everywhere inside and outside that flat. "No, it sounds like Sherlock handled that well. He told John to get rid of drugs and Victor left without too much confrontation. Besides we both know that the only time he ever schemes about John is to protect him. We've seen the evidence of that with St. Bart's."

"Yes well, that is a credit to my brother in this moment. But John doesn't hide things well and he didn't leave the flat, which means the drugs are still available to Sherlock. He is giving my brother an extraordinary amount of trust. I only hope he can earn it." Mycroft sighed again. "What do you think? Is John good for him?" He softened slightly as he asked for Greg's actual opinion, turning to look his partner fully in the eyes.

"Darling, of course he is." Greg assured him. "I mean you and I both noticed the change in Sherlock the moment John came into his life. Hell if I recall correctly you wanted John to spy on him and give you information even though he hadn't even truly moved into the flat yet. So clearly you somewhat trust John and I trust that man with my life." Greg sighed softly, "And I can tell he deeply loves Sherlock."

"I thought he would be easy to manipulate, I was wrong clearly. I was also shocked anyone could so readily follow my brother into danger especially so soon after meeting him. I do trust him but... This is my brother after all. He doesn't do sentiment. Never has. Not since father explained it to be a weakness." Mycroft gently placed his hand on Greg's. His mind clearly racing.

"You say you don't do sentiment. I think it's just a front all the Holmes boys have. You say caring isn't an advantage but behind closed doors you're both more likely to act like a modern day Prince Charming." He stated giving Mycroft's hand a squeeze. "Come on, we're here." He leaned over and gave Mycroft a quick peck on the lips before he got out of the car, opening the door for himself despite the driver's attempt to open it for him. He saw the cab pull up right behind him and he chuckled as he watched John and Sherlock flushed with effort, get out and attempt to look nonchalant.

"You two been jogging?" Greg teased, because he knew it would make both of them blush.

"I'm sure you will find out soon enough." John smirked and wound his hand back into Sherlock's once he was out of the car. "Mycroft are you blushing?" John leaned forward some, surveying Mycroft closely. Mycroft tensed.  
"Don't be ridiculous." He snapped and strode over to open the door.  
"Yep, blushing." John announced.  
"Why the military look John, are we going to war?" Mycroft retorted sarcastically.  
"Oh yes. Yes we are." John winked and he headed for the door. "An actual date, what will Angelo think about that Sherlock?" Mycroft tensed but his blushed deepened slightly. He looked to Greg, wondering just what he had gotten them into. Sherlock grinned once he saw the blush on his brother's cheeks. He hadn't even said anything and his brother was already getting embarrassed.

"Stop teasing him," Greg insisted with a smile. "You wonder why he gets so angry, it's because you're constantly trying to make him snap." Sherlock smiled a bit as they walked into the restaurant.

"Thank you, Greg." He said, maybe having him around wouldn't be all that bad.

"He thought you were my date the last time we came here, John. I doubt he'll think much of us coming back." Angelo came out from the kitchen and smiled brightly when he saw Sherlock and John.

"Sherlock!" Sherlock smiled. "Hello Angelo," he greeted happily. "Back with your date I see," Angelo noted and the warmth on Sherlock's cheeks was impossible to hide. He couldn't think of anything proper to say so he just nodded and squeezed John's hand. He looked to his brother wanting to say something snarky like  _"I brought my brother and his_ _fiancé as well_ ," but he knew that wasn't behaving so he settled on leaving it to Mycroft.

"This is my older brother, Mycroft and his..." He looked too his brother, expecting him to deal with whatever term he wanted to use in public.

"Partner." Mycroft said softly. John smirked as Greg smiled suddenly feeling a bit shy as Mycroft called him his partner. He had never done that before. Not in front of anyone and it made his heart swell.  
"Angelo, good to see you." John's smile was big. He looked a Greg and leaned over to whisper, "He's claimed you in public now, you are as good as owned." He teased. "These Holmes men." He raised an eyebrow. Greg only chuckled when John used the word owned because that was very true.

"I should get a collar that says property of Mycroft Holmes." He whispered to John with a giggle. He wasn't going to start blushing that easily. Greg wasn't easily embarrassed because he had a very good sense of humor.

"This is a pleasant place you have here." Mycroft offered but it didn't quite reflect in his eyes. But John had to give him credit, he was trying.  
"The foods excellent." John added trying to reassure Mycroft.

"Angelo, can you bring us some wine?" Sherlock asked as he began to lead John to their table by the window, which was thankfully empty.

"Sure! Of course. On the house." Sherlock sighed, shaking his head.

"You don't have to do that, really." Angelo shook his head.

"It's the least I can do after what you did for me." He went back to the kitchen to go fetch the wine while they all took a seat. Sherlock and John sat on the end of table facing the window. Sherlock liked to sit here because if the conversation got boring he could start pretending to be interested in something going on outside.

"We're getting free wine?" Greg asked with a smile. "I never get free wine from Angelo."

"True but that is because you're the officer who arrested him." Sherlock pointed out with a faint smile.

"True but I'm also the one who testified that he didn't commit murder. Where's my free wine for that?" He asked, Sherlock only chuckled and moved closer to John to read his menu.

"Order for me?"Sherlock whispered sweetly, enjoying the secret of their game.

"Always love." John smiled. "At least this time I know what is going on." John laughed and noting an interested look on Mycroft's face he continued. "After your little getting to know me by kidnapping, Sherlock brought me here. We were on a case."

"Yes, 'A Study in Pink' I believe you called it." Mycroft looked over the menu but wasn't entirely able to focus.

"I m famished, I haven't been this hungry since we finished our last case." Sherlock said quietly.

"Hm..." Mycroft hummed softly, not entirely sure what to make of the moment. He was rather envious of how comfortable Greg and John seemed. John seemed to catch on to Mycroft's distraction and a smirk crossed his face drawing Sherlock's attention.

"You'll probably like the pasta and white wine dish, Mycroft." His voice was calm and smooth, Sherlock could tell that he was choosing his words carefully. "Sherlock says it's too soft for his taste but that's because he only likes really strong flavors. You will probably appreciate the subtle hints of flavor the wine brings to the food." John said it in just the right tone and Mycroft's jaw tightened. He may have actually blushed but he looked swiftly away. Sherlock was almost giggling as John deduced his brother. It was amazing to watch.

"I wasn't aware you had such a grasp on my food preferences, John." Mycroft's voice was guarded.

"I don't but if you have chosen someone like Greg as your 'partner' it just shows you prefer things to be of a softer, gentler sort of way. Bridging the gap between a boldness when necessary but a subtler allure at first glance." John just rolled the deduction out onto the table and returned his attention to the menu. Mycroft looked slightly disgruntled.

"Interesting deduction..." He replied not lifting his gaze from his menu.

"Bloody hell, did you learn all that from Sherlock?" Greg asked with amazement, deciding not to argue about the soft, gentle thing. He didn't feel like he was soft or gentle but he may be, he just never considered that as an appraisal he would use on himself. "Wow. That's amazing," His voice betrayed his surprise and he honestly meant it. Angelo came back with the wine and poured everyone a glass, then after a bit more discussion he took their order and promised to come back with their food shortly.

"I've picked some of it up from him, yes. But it's sort of natural isn't it? I mean you lot do it now too. Especially you and Molly. He makes us all want to be smarter." John replied softly. "I also wasn't saying you're a push over Greg. I simply meant that you are more empathetic and polite than most other people. You have a way with your words that allows you to make your point without putting the other person down. Something our Holmes boys don't entirely possess." John's focus turned to Sherlock and he smiled. "Though Sherlock can wreck havoc when he gives a compliment." "Do you know my food preferences, Mycroft?" He asked curiously because he was a tad jealous that John had ordered for Sherlock and Mycroft didn't even attempt to order for him. When Greg asked  _that_  question John didn't smirk, but the way he looked out the window clearly told Sherlock he was feeling a bit triumphant at the moment. Mycroft however was flustered and trying hard not to show it.

"I know some of them, but you're often too quick with your order for me to follow. However you've never mentioned or shown any particular dislike of the food I order for you when we have dinner at home." He said it softly, as if he'd forgotten to think about the comment. He sighed softly. "I've never been here and you said you have been. So I imagined you had a usual dish you preferred to order, since regularity is one of your strong suits." Mycroft turned to look at Greg, trying to read his face. Sherlock almost started laughing like a lunatic while his brother explained why he hadn't ordered for his partner. Oh God he loved John right now. He was doing most of the work, and hopefully they wouldn't have to go on another double date if tonight was awkward enough. It was Greg's turn to turn a bit red as Mycroft explained himself, he blushed feeling like an asshole for not even considering that Mycroft might not even know what was offered at the restaurant.

"Oh. Sorry. I should have thought of that before." He said nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. He quickly tried to change the subject by focusing on Sherlock. "Sherlock, you're being very quiet tonight. Are you alright?" Sherlock grinned, if Greg only knew why he was behaving himself. The grin was unsettling and Greg focused on sipping his wine.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Just trying to civilized, right brother?" He asked Mycroft. A smirk wormed its way onto John's face as he sipped his wine. Mycroft cleared his throat, blushing slightly as he picked up his own glass and took a sip.  
"Civilized, yes." Mycroft said softly. "Consequently why haven't you..." John cut him off in an authoritative tone that took Mycroft by surprise.  
"No, we aren't talking about cases right now. Sherlock has to have his full capabilities before he goes on any cases. He is under my care, and for now that means no cases."  
"It is a matter..."  
"Mycroft, don't be foolish. We all know that while Sherlock is much better at it, you see at least half of what he does. Which means you already have the answer to the case but need someone else to look into it. You obviously can't have Greg do it because he is clearly biased to your side while Sherlock is very visibly not going to provide you any favors. So perhaps you could ask someone else to look into it." John smiled but his words were firm.  
"Do you pretend to be stupid on purpose or are you showing off?" Mycroft retorted, clearly disliking John's advantage.

"Don't call him stupid!" Sherlock had snapped during the faint argument but John and his brother were so consumed with it all they didn't even hear him. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Well behaving was more boring than he remembered.  
"Both? Maybe." John shrugged but smirked. "I am just explaining things. Too often you try to have Sherlock get his hands dirty on things you already have the answer to. Mostly because it lets you see what he is doing. But that's not necessary because you already know what he is doing because our flat is bugged. Consequently, you may want to delete most of the footage from last night." John grinned.  
"I assure you it has been handled in a delicate manner. You two could at least pretend to be normal once in awhile." Mycroft's face was blank but his eyes betrayed how he was really feeling. John almost giggled.  
"Normal is boring. The four of us don't do normal. You two would rot and Greg and I wouldn't have anyone interesting to be romantically involved with. Speaking of you and Greg how long have you two been an item?" John asked casually, softening the conversation. "I'm kind of surprised you didn't tell me Greg. Least of all to cushion Sherlock's reaction." John put his hand on Sherlock's leg in a rather innocent way, knowing that the touch would soothe both of them. Once the conversation became a tad friendlier Sherlock relaxed sipping on his wine comforted by John's hand on his leg. Greg smiled at John's question, reaching over to place a hand on Mycroft's knee because he knew the elder Holmes wouldn't be as comfortable with taking his hand in public.

"For about five years now, on and off. But mostly on." Greg answered glancing over at Mycroft and beaming at him. "We met when Sherlock was going through a... tough time. He overdosed pretty badly and I was the officer that was called to the scene. I met Mycroft that day and since then we've been together."

"You two are basically together because of me?" Sherlock asked with a smug smile.

"In a way, yes." Greg smirked and Sherlock looked over at Mycroft and smirked himself.

"You've never thanked me for that, Mycroft." He scolded.

"Five years?" John looked mildly astonished.  
"Yes, five and counting." Mycroft let his hand come to rest on Greg's. "I had my eye on him before your troubles began Sherlock, but yes I suppose I should thank you for introducing us." Mycroft smiled but he was still rather uncomfortable. He didn't like the feeling he had that he'd missed something important going on between John and Sherlock.  
"And you never told me, you jerk." John mocked being upset with Greg but laughed. He rubbed Sherlock's leg. Greg grinned.  
"He wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Of course Sherlock could have told you, if you had been interested." Mycroft was watching Sherlock closely now, realizing he was holding himself back. A slight smile playing on his lips.  
"So you keep a close leash on him then." John teased and then something clicked for him and his grin widened. "Ah.." John chided them. "It all makes sense. You come to crime scenes using Sherlock as an excuse to see your love. That is  _adorable_." Mycroft tensed and his eyes snapped back to John as John's appraisal of his actions dismantled the deductions he was trying to make about Sherlock. He realized that was exactly what John intended to have happen and it flustered him more.  
"If you wouldn't mind I would prefer you to stop analyzing me." He snapped softly.  
"If you stop acting like such a jerk and lighten up, maybe I will. If Sherlock can be nice surely you can." John's voice was half teasing, half serious. Mycroft was completely out of his element. Just what exactly was this man doing?  
"Sherlock is simply being quiet. Though I must commend you for whatever means you devised to keep him that way." Mycroft's face tensed, his lips in a thin smile.  
"I can be  _very_  persuasive." John grinned unabashedly, Sherlock consented himself to look out the window as if he'd noticed something interesting. "Isn't that why you always come to me to get me to talk to him? Honestly, you obviously care a great deal about all of us. Just lighten up. Coddling Sherlock, being a prick to me, and setting stern unnecessary boundaries with a man as honorable as Greg is just petty and annoying." John's tone changed and his words were soft, conversational. Mycroft went very red and opened his mouth twice before actually speaking.  
"I am trying..." Sherlock smiled, enjoying Mycroft's flustered tone.  
"Well this is an opportunity to practice. Just be Mycroft for once. Who here is going to say something about it?" John demanded softly.  
"Ah..." Mycroft said softly and looked down. He seemed to realize something. "Is this some sort of way to burn me with my own words, John?"  
"I'm not trying to burn you. But you obviously love Greg and care about Sherlock. So sentiment is not outside your world." John sipped his wine again, that same confident smirk on his face. One way or another he would win. Either Mycroft would become the brother Sherlock needed or he'd go away, either way John won. Mycroft looked at Greg, clearly lost for words. He blushed a bit and squeezed Greg's hand, trying to turn the conversation away from himself.  
"Do you feel like we're in the middle of world war three?" Greg asked Sherlock as John and Mycroft continued to bicker. Sherlock shook his head.

"Mycroft is being too timid for it to be world war three."

"I've never actually seen him so flustered." Greg added and Sherlock scoffed.

"Then you've never talked about sex with him. He'll make excuses to get out of talking about it." He whispered with a grin.

"Oh, I already knew about that one." Greg said with a chuckle. "He's just a bit shy about it is all."

"What is your favorite dish here?" Mycroft asked Greg directly. He smiled.

"What I ordered. Fettuccine Alfredo." He stroked his thumb over Mycroft's hand, gazing into his eyes. He was hoping he would just calm down.

"Fettuccine Alfredo, noted." Mycroft smiled, but his gaze had returned to watching John with interest.

"Don't let him get to you," Greg whispered.

"It just looks like he's taken over Sherlock's place tonight." Mycroft's furrowed his brow, which became a sort of sneer when Sherlock heard him and laughed.

"Trust me, I'd be much worse if I wasn't restraining myself." The detective promised.

"You all realize I can hear you." John said raising an eyebrow as he sipped his wine. He leaned back watching them talk, but he fell silent. He sort of looked like a general watching his troops carry out perfectly executed orders. He was completely relaxed.

"Well John, I believe you have become a worthy adversary." Mycroft offered and he decided to let it go. He nodded and took a drink of his wine. He relaxed into his seat and looked over at his brother. "Just what are you two up to anyway? Trying to make us uncomfortable?"

"Ah and so the game ends." John giggled. "But you blushed and I did not, Mycroft. Which means I'm the winner."

"And I'll concede, just this once." He smiled for a moment. Sherlock smiled at John, full of pride that John had beaten his brother so easily.

"Nicely done, Captain." He whispered in his ear before briefly brushing his lips against his cheek.

"Thank you, sir." John whispered back and grinned at Greg as he felt the slight shiver than ran through Sherlock.

"You two were playing a game? Wait, why didn't Sherlock and I get to play?" Greg asked curiously. He was honestly having a nice time and wanted to be a part of the fun. He also misunderstood thinking Mycroft was playing around with John.

"I am playing the game, Mycroft didn't know he was." Sherlock told him with a grin.

"What you're just supposed to be civil and you win?" Greg asked with a chuckle and Sherlock nodded. Greg raised his eyebrow.

"What exactly do you win?" He asked his eyes shifting between John and Sherlock. His surprise only expanding as Sherlock finally had his turn to blush, he became suddenly flustered and focused around for something to talk about.

"Oh, Angelo has changed the candles since the last time we came here," Sherlock lied, trying to avoid answering. Greg went to press him for an answer but John stepped in to rescue him.

"That's between us, Greg." His tone held a bit of warning but his face remained relaxed. "I'm sure Mycroft can show you the tape later if you  _really_  want to know." John squeezed Sherlock's thigh slightly.  
"I doubt Greg has any desire to watch what you two get up to. I've been told it's rather... Ill disciplined." Mycroft smirked but he was surprised when John just barely turned pink.

"No no, I really don't want to watch you two shag." Greg said, now turning a bit red himself. "Mycroft's already told me you two have a pretty... healthy sex life and that's almost too much information as it is." He looked over at Mycroft and smiled.  
"Well if you want to play Greg you'll have get Mycroft to give you some rules." John giggled a bit darkly. Mycroft blushed himself, his jaw tightening again.

"I want to play." Greg said with a pout, turning to look at Mycroft. He obviously thought this game was perfectly harmless since everyone here was playing or aware of it. That must mean it couldn't possibly get him into any trouble. John and Sherlock both chuckled softly.

"Careful, Greg. My Brother has been bossing people around since he could talk." Sherlock bit his lip the moment the words left his mouth.

_Shit, was that misbehaving?_

"Trust me Greg, the game was ours alone. Mycroft is not involved, that would make it a lot less fun." John smirked. His tone was smoldering as he met Sherlock's eyes. "Just a little something we came up with for our... Handler." He winked at Sherlock before slowly turning his gaze back. Sherlock was deeply aroused by the look in John's eyes and bit back a moan, focusing instead on the table.  
"Oh don't be so dramatic, brother. You are  _much better_  at bossing people around and beating them into submission if they refuse." Mycroft smirked as he finally got to John, who just barely went pink. "I really don't think you want to play this game with them, Greg. It might make me..." He paused to consider the correct word, his gaze locking with Greg's. For the first time betraying that Mycroft felt anything so base as desire. "Jealous." His tone was dark and their eyes were locked. John quirked an eyebrow which Mycroft didn't see, interested in how deeply Mycroft was attracted to Greg. And since Mycroft was absorbed in his moment John gently let his nails press into Sherlock's legs through his pants. It was a clear warning, 'you're awfully close to misbehaving.' Sherlock let out a bit of gasp as he felt John's nails press into him, that of course made Mycroft and Greg look to him and he forced a smile.

"Erm, thought I saw spider," He lied and turned pink. It was an incredibly stupid lie considering they all knew he wasn't afraid of the creatures at all. Greg looked at him with slight disbelief before turning back to look at Mycroft.

"I never said I wanted to play with  _them_." He whispered with a slight smirk.

"Oh Good Lord," Sherlock mumbled with new disgust at this entire conversation. "Please, don't talk about 'playing' with him." He pleaded and he honestly didn't care in that moment if that was behaving or not. He didn't think he would be able to stomach much more talk of his brother playing  _this sort of game_  with Greg.

"Greg." Mycroft said it softly but it was a bit of a warning. "We can discuss this  _later_." He blushed a pretty horrible shade of crimson, echoing Sherlock's sentiment. Though of course that was in regards to John and Sherlock's version of this little  _game_.  
"Well this got interestingly awkward quickly." John giggled, seemingly the only one unconcerned with what was going on before them.

"Oh," Greg suddenly seemed to understand what exactly 'the game' was. He felt like an idiot for not catching on sooner and he actually blushed just slightly. "Sorry," He added with a nervous laugh.

"Shall we leave that sort of talk for a time when we aren't eating?" John asked as he motioned to Angelo returning with the food. He soothed his fingers over Sherlock's leg, a smile on his face. The touch was reassuring 'it's okay. You're doing okay. Relax.' Sherlock tried to do just that.

"I rather agree. It has occurred to me that perhaps leaving Baker Street for awhile might enhance your recovery. Don't you think so Sherlock?" Mycroft's jaw was still tight but the blush hadn't faded. "I could arrange a small cottage in the country..."  
"He would murder someone out of sheer boredom." John said softly but his tone indicated appreciation at the sentiment. Mycroft only extracted his hand from Greg in order to eat, but he gave his leg a small squeeze as he broke their contact. Smiling as he watched Greg take the first bite of his meal and seeing the enjoyment that spread on his face as the flavors danced on his tongue.

"You're just trying to get me as far away from Victor as possible," Sherlock told his brother simply. He took a bite of his food and shook his head when Mycroft started to say that wasn't the case. "Don't lie, Mycroft. I know you. You don't even like the fact that Victor knows where we live. But you need to relax. Victor has never hurt me... Well never hurt me physically anyway and I doubt he would start now. John and I are perfectly happy and safe at Baker Street." Mycroft looked somewhat furious.  
"Are you sure you are considering everyone's safety in this case?" The question was specific. John tensed.  
"Let it go Mycroft. If something happens and Sherlock slips up we will figure out something else. For now he is here and he is relaxed. So stop." There was an anger behind John's voice. sort of possessiveness. Sherlock was his, Victor could go to hell. Mycroft tensed again but Greg sipped his wine and then stepped in to try to break up the tension.

"Why don't you just go on holiday somewhere? What about Paris?" He hummed happily. "I'd love to go there. I went there a few times when I was kid, I had a few cousins who lived over there." Mycroft turned to watch Greg's face as he remembered some of his visits to France, a small smile warming his tense face.  
"Paris... We could go for Christmas." Mycroft offered Greg to soften the moment. John looked out the window trying to soothe his own nerves. He wasn't angry at Sherlock but any mention of Victor made some strange rage sweep through him, a jealousy he didn't yet understand. He couldn't possibly understand that he was jealous of not being Sherlock's first lover. He turned back, feeling a bit mollified and grinned.  
"That's a sort of quaint picture. You two in Paris at Christmas." John teased Greg. Sherlock bit his lip, wanting to argue for himself but was absolutely determined to behave. He drank the rest his wine in one gulp and refilled his glass, at the questionable look Mycroft gave him he simply rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine." He snapped, but was saved from further retorts as Greg spoke up.

"Oh shut up," Greg told John with a laugh before looking back to Mycroft, but he was blushing just slightly. "Could we really go? I'd love to. It'd be one of the most romantic things you have ever done." He said with bright smile and a sort of awe in his voice.

"One of? He's romantic often?" Sherlock asked without thinking, it sounded a tad rude but he was honestly just curious. John almost chuckled. "My Brother, Mr. 'caring isn't an advantage,' is romantic?" Greg looked at him as if that was a very stupid question to ask.

"Of course he is. Why are you so shocked? Mycroft says your rather romantic with John." Sherlock scoffed.

"I think I'm the exact opposite of romantic considering the fact John and I have been together for a few days and this is our first date, Greg." Sherlock snapped softly, annoyance in his tone.

"First  _actual_  date." Mycroft corrected him, slightly flushed. Sherlock looked slightly confused. "You two go out to dinner rather frequently, just so you can both be sure the other eats. You have given him your jacket four times during cases because he had forgotten his own. You left him..." John was very red and coughed slightly.  
"Alright, alright! You two stop. This isn't about one upping each other. Christ, why are siblings so difficult." John was flustered and finished his wine rather hastily. Greg was smirking, this entire dinner was proving to be rather hilarious.  
"While caring can be a disadvantage is rather unavoidable when it strikes." Mycroft said softly, his eyes turning to Greg. John felt himself inexplicably drawn to watch Mycroft reveal something so  _sentimental_. "It's insidious. It slides into your brain until you can no longer avoid it by any rational means." Mycroft's tone was clear, he actually understood why Sherlock had started using this time. John's mouth was open slightly. Sherlock was even in a sort of shock as he watched his brother act.  
"I can't believe I just heard that come out of your mouth." John said in shock.  
"Just because I don't show my cards doesn't mean I don't have any, John." Mycroft retorted

" I love you too," Greg whispered so quietly it not have even been heard. When his partner turned a shade of red, he chuckled and mumbled an apology before turning back to his food. John and Sherlock both watched them transfixed as Mycroft cleared his throat and looked back down at his food.

"Also you were correct about this dish John, it is quite wonderful." Greg was actually very moved by what Mycroft had said so he squeezed his knee and whispered.

"God forbid but if there is a next time, you can pick where we dine next time, Brother." Sherlock said quietly, revealing something rather emotion based himself. Mycroft simply nodded.

"God forbid? You've honestly been having that bad of a time?" Greg asked with a chuckle. Sherlock gave a heavy sigh before answering.

"It hasn't been as terrible as I thought it would be but I would love to spare each of us the awkwardness." He smirked and picked up his fork, leaning over John to steal a bite of his food. A bad habit he'd had for ages, one that John was very comfortable with.

"That's good, but just a bit dull." He told him with a shrug. John had picked bland food, that meant he was not able to stomach the usually strong flavors he preferred. That deducting hummed in his brain but was chased away but a sudden boldness. "Do you want to try mine?" He asked with a smile. John's eyes met Sherlock's and he was absolutely floored by the statement. Greg couldn't entirely understand the emotion that was written so clearly on John's face, but he smirked as he watched the two of them forget once again that other people were around. Sherlock had never let John eat off his plate before, there were many reasons but the chief one was that he was incredibly possessive over things he decided belonged to him though he did not respect that sort of behavior in others. Now though a new feeling rolled through him and he felt everything that was his now also belonged to John.

"Aw, looks like your brother finally learned how to share," Greg said as he snickered with Mycroft. John did take just a small bite, less because he wanted it and more because it was such a significant gesture he didn't want Sherlock to think he was rejecting the feeling behind hit.  
"As I was saying." Mycroft smiled and drew Sherlock's attention back to himself. Mycroft's smile widened "It would be lovely to see John's face if we took him to the French restaurant near my house."  
"And now they're plotting against us." John said to Greg, raising an eyebrow.  
"Oh, we don't even need words for that." Mycroft smirked. John blushed again.

"He's been into some very expensive places before, brother. Regardless of what you think I do try to treat him to better than just takeaway. I also doubt it would shock him as much as you'd like it too." He hummed a bit as he thought and then conceded Mycroft's point. "I do think he would like French food though. We both know I have always have but then again mother did start us eating French food early in our lives, being French herself." Sherlock concluded before putting his fork down and moving a bit closer to John to rest his hand on his shoulder. He wanted contact and really if he was honest he wanted to go back to the flat and see that uniform. It was consuming his thoughts. He felt like eating anymore would cause him to explode. John smirked and looked down over his plate.  
"You did quite well, especially considering how much you've eaten the last few days." He whispered, and it was true Sherlock had eaten almost a third of his dinner. "I'm glad." And so he was.

"Thank you," Sherlock whispered in reply, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Would you like dessert? I can order something for you." He assured his lover, further poking at Mycroft's failure to order dinner for Greg.

"Hm..." John looked thoughtful. "Sure, but I will probably take most of it home unless you share it with me." Mycroft was surprised at how easily the two could just fade from the world and into each other.  
"Greg would you like to go to the pastry shop by my flat when we are done here?" He asked quietly, not trying to challenge Angelo's dessert menu but more desirous of being alone with his partner. Sherlock shot a glare at his brother, believing he was obviously trying to one up him.

"I have a better idea, I can make you something back at the flat. How does cheese cake sound?" Sherlock asked suddenly with a warm smile. He started to rub John's leg gently. If he had been considering everything the way he normally did instead of being overly concerned with the desert uniform in John's closet he might have realized that though his attempt was a good one he'd forgotten on important fact.

"You don't have any ingredients to cook with, Sherlock." Greg pointed out with a laugh before nodded at Mycroft. "I'd love too but you're picking everything we get. Last time you let me pick I got sweets that were too strong for my taste. I don't want to waste anything."

"Oh we have  _everything_  we need for dessert." John grinned, his attention still on Sherlock. Sherlock shivered again.  
"I think we ought to be on our way then." Mycroft said and stood.

"Oh? Alright. Us too." Sherlock said now even more eager to be alone with John. He stood and forced himself to behave by shaking his brother's hand. "Have a goodnight, Mycroft. You too Greg. This wasn't as horrible as I expected. I actually had fun." The detective inspectors eyes went a bit wide because it was still so shocking Sherlock was behaving himself so well.

"Thank you?" He said, a bit unsure because this was strange and new to him.

"Good evening." Mycroft said softly. He took Greg's hand and put some cash on the table.  
"Hm, let's get back to the flat." John grinned. "You two have fun," He shook their hands as Sherlock had done.  
"Next time I choose where we go for dinner." Mycroft grinned and headed out to his car with Greg.

"I've never made cheesecake in my life." Sherlock told John as soon as Greg and Mycroft were gone. He gave a laugh at the look on John's face.

"You don't even cook," John giggled. "I was rather surprised when you offered." They waved to Angelo, also leaving cash on the table as they stepped out into the night.

"I only said that so I could be better than Mycroft. But I'm sure I can actually make it I find the directions, it's just like an experiment right?" He offered but John met his eyes with a fiery gaze.

"All I want for dessert is  _you_  without any clothes on." John grinned as he hailed a cab. Sherlock groaned as John's tone quickly became deep and husky, his desire crowding everything out of his mind. "You did very well love, you will only have to endure one small punishment. But don't worry you are deserving of a very large reward." John grinned and he licked his lips, as the pair got into the cab. "Poor Greg, didn't know which way was up." Sherlock grinned at the idea of getting his reward, but gave a bit of a pout for getting punished. He thought he had behaved... Well that wasn't true not the entire time but he did most of the evening.

"Oh, I don't even want to think about what sort of game he and my brother have planned." Sherlock said with a chuckle as they climbed into a cab.

"Don't worry, you were very good. But you did get a bit carried away." John rubbed his thigh to soothe him as they got in and he stayed very close to Sherlock. "So, now you have to decide where you want to receive your reward." Sherlock blushed a bit and he leaned close to John's ear. He had been thinking about this since all night, since John mentioned rewarding him. He had considered every room and currently his choices were a tossup between the kitchen and the living room.

"The kitchen." He whispered giving a playful nip to his ear. It was a quick decision, one he chose because he kept thinking about doing things on their table.

"Hm, perfect." John purred. The smile didn't budge from his face. He let his hand snake up Sherlock's back easily slipping into his hair and gently running through it. "You're going to love it." He promised, his tone deepening.

"Oh, I know. You don't have to tell me." Sherlock said with amusement as he brought his lips to John's neck and he started ravish it with kisses. "Are you going to go put on that uniform for me?" He whispered as he started to rub John's thighs, John grabbed his hands and pinned them down, ravishing him with kisses.

"Hm, maybe." John smirked and moaned softly. As soon as the cab was back at the flat he got out, half dragging Sherlock as he did. "Maybe you should ask for it properly." He giggled, unlocking the door. Sherlock gave a laugh and let John pull him up the stairs, John was almost as desperate as he was for this. That was promising. He leaned close to John's ear, grinning like an idiot.

"How should I ask? Want me to get down on my knees for you and beg?" He whispered as John shoved him into the flat. Sherlock giggled and fell back onto the couch. "Already getting rough, oh I love it, John."

"You have no idea." John growled and started kissing Sherlock's neck. "Just in case I go too crazy, we'd better give you a safe word. So let's see..." He hummed, his teeth grazing Sherlock's neck. Sherlock moaned desperately, trying to get his hands free from John's control and failing miserably. "You can say Belgravia if you need a break, and... Hm..." He licked over the area he was attending to on Sherlock's neck, causing him to whimper. "How about Monaco if you need to stop completely. Now I don't care how you ask but if you want that uniform it better be  _really_  convincing." He leaned back and crossed his arms, removing all his contact from Sherlock. Sherlock grinned and tried to search his mind for everything he had ever read or even seen. He tried to think of things he thought John would enjoy. Things he thought he would enjoy if John did them for him. He kissed John hard on the mouth, his hands rubbing soothing circles into his crossed arms. He crawled off the couch only to kneel on the floor in John. He started to stroke John's thighs, gazing up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please, Captain Watson. Please. I want to see you in the uniform you wore when you were in the desert. I want to see the uniform you were meant to use to dominate me with. To control me with. It's the only thing that will make me behave completely. If you're in that uniform, I will follow every order without question, just please let me see it on you." He almost whimpered because his mind was so totally possessed of the image of the uniform on  _his_  John.

"Oh very good..." John grinned and leaned down, kissing Sherlock roughly. "Lock the doors, I want you naked in the kitchen when I get back. Hands on the table, back to the living room." He gripped Sherlock's hair claiming another vicious kiss as he stood and strode to his room.  
Sherlock watched John, leave, his heart pounding with lust. This was going to be fun. He couldn't possibly imagine anything getting better than this. It was odd, he had never wanted to be submissive for anyone before. It was John who made him want to be. It was John who thought about when they met Irene Adler. She would never make him beg for mercy...but John could. John could turn him into a trembling mess of lust and need. That's why he stood naked in the kitchen, already hard, his hands flat on the table, his stance wide, his head down. He felt like he was waiting for hours, he was already shaking with anticipation. John already had the undershirt on so that made it easier to change. He stripped down to his under things before he switched into his desert camo pants and let his dog tags rest visibly on his chest. It had been a long time since he'd put this one. He was surprised at how well it all fit and smirked remembering how he'd managed to smuggle it out of the hospital with the help of a nurse. He rummaged around finding his boots and laced them on tightly. His jacket on his arm as he returned to the living room. But finally Sherlock heard John's footsteps coming down the stairs. He let out a hot breath as he heard his footsteps enter the kitchen, his entire body vibrating with need.

"May I look at you, Captain?" He asked in a shaking, pleading voice.

_Christ..._

John groaned, looking over Sherlock as he came to rest behind him. He assumed a standard military stance. Sherlock was desperate, he'd never seen him look so absolutely submissive. It was beautiful and disturbing at the same time. He had to pause to find his courage, his desperate desire to let Sherlock have his way fighting against the commanding nature he needed in this moment.  
"Not yet." He purred, walking forward. "I owe you your punishment first. Then you may have your reward. Ask to receive your punishment." He whispered, running his hand just above Sherlock's skin, knowing the slight touch would drive him insane. "You are to receive five spankings, because you couldn't keep that amazing mouth to yourself." He growled low in Sherlock's ear, nipping it gently. "Ask your Master to begin." He was already aching, but he knew he had to do this correctly. He had to make this moment perfect. Because this was something Sherlock would never give to just anyone. The heady excitement of it made him almost tremble but he focused his mind. He'd thought about this, Christ he had. Sherlock had been desperate to see this outfit since he found out John snuck it home. But John had hidden it. The one time he had managed to hide something well. He wanted Sherlock to be ready to explode with desperation before he let him see it. But he slipped one foot next to Sherlock's so his gaze would fall on his boot and the cuff of his pants. Enough to tease. "Now." He growled.

_Fuck. Oh God. I can almost see him_.

It was amazing and awful being teased like this, Sherlock could see those boots and the cuff of those pants. Not only that he could smell the uniform. It smelled clean, so clean. Like it had been cleaned many times just to try to get the scent of sweat and dirt out of it but Sherlock could still smell a hint of it and it made it all the more desirable. If he just turned his head a bit he could see all of his perfect soldier. He wanted to. He wanted to just peek but he knew how much trouble he would be in for peeking so he forced himself to shut his eyes as he bent over the table properly.

"Please, Master. May I have the punishment I deserve?" When he heard no reply Sherlock knew he had to do better than that. Christ he had to do better than that. He  _needed_ to see John. He absolutely  _needed_ to and if he didn't he felt like he'd spontaneously combust. He gripped the table tight, his trembling a tad more obvious now. "Please?  _Please_ ,  _Master_. Punish me. I deserve to be punished. I didn't behave. I was bad. Please punish me for it!" He begged, trembling with desire.

"Oh look at you..." John's voice was pure arousal. He, without warning, brought his hand down over Sherlock's ass not too hard but not too soft. He groaned as Sherlock moved and slowly rubbed the area to soothe it. "Count for me." He whispered. When Sherlock counted off the first one he brought a second smack, this time a bit harder and on the opposite cheek. "The first was for teasing Greg with how much Angelo rewards you. The second was for yelling, though I am happy you don't think I'm stupid." He ran soft fingers over Sherlock's blushing arse. "How does that feel, pet?" He demanded, removing his hand but not yet giving the next smack. Sherlock was gripping the table with a vice grip now. His chest lay against the cool table as he groaned and panted. This was better than he imagined and he spent quite good deal of time imagining what it would feel like to have John's hand contacting his skin so roughly. He kept his eyes shut tight to keep himself from glancing at John, like he so desperately wanted to.

"It feels..." Christ, why couldn't he sum it all up? 'Good' was not the proper word. 'Good' didn't describe how it felt. Neither did amazing or marvelous or any other world he could gather in his mind. "Mind-Blowing," came out of his mouth suddenly and he nodded. "I can't...even describe it, Master. My cock just twitches when you spank me. It makes me gasp and ache for more. Please give me more. Please continue my punishment." John groaned loudly, enjoying that description.  
"So eager..." He purred, "eager to please me." He swatted that blushing arse again, once on each cheek. "You are doing so well. Those were for your cheeky comments about Mycroft being controlling." He leaned down and pressed his noticeably bulging pants into Sherlock so that the fabric and his erection applied pressure to his blushing skin. "I think you have done so well you deserve to be rewarded now." He stepped back quickly leaving a gap between them. "Turn around,  _slowly_. Do not move otherwise. You may see me now."

"Thank you, Master." Sherlock said in a relieved sigh, he wanted to turn around as quickly as he possible could. But he forced himself to move slowly, to enjoy the feeling of John telling him what to do in that very commanding voice. His breath froze in his chest as he finally turned to behold John standing there in that uniform. He let out a gasp. "Oh, Sir, you look amazing." He said in a breathless voice. It was almost exactly as Sherlock pictured he would look but something about the way he held himself was something Sherlock could never have imagined. He almost reached out to touch John, to take in the tactile feel of that cloth on his body but he stopped himself because that was not something a submissive would do. "May I touch you?" He asked hopefully, his eyes betraying how desperately he wanted to. "Please?" He said, sounding eager.

"Let's see..." John stepped closer to Sherlock, moving him so he was pinned between John's legs and the table. Sherlock groaned softly as he felt John's erection brush against his own. "You my touch anything above my waist." He grinned and leaned in, grabbing a short but intense kiss from Sherlock's mouth. "Go ahead, explore my chest. But you had better not do anything else. Do not take off my shirt, do not touch my trousers. You may touch only the skin available otherwise it stays over the clothes." John was covering every things, finding all the loopholes Sherlock might exploit. It made the detective weak in the knees.

_Oh how my John knows me._

"Yes sir. Thank you." Sherlock praised him as he brought his hands to John's chest. The fabric clung to his skin in a very flattering way. It was very form fitting, clinging to John like it wanted nothing more than to protect him from some unseen danger. He smirked as felt the feeling of the somewhat rough fabric underneath his fingers, imagining how it must have felt different in the dry heat of Afghanistan, covered in John's sweat. "I'm rather lucky that someone didn't snatch you up when you were in the war, Sir." He purred into his ear as his hands explored his arms, his shoulder, and then his neck with a feather light touch. "May I touch you here?" Sherlock asked with a grin as he started to move his hands down John's back. He didn't go too far down but his finger tips were dangerously close. John felt the comment sweep through him igniting his doubt and a brief flicker of his insecurity flashed in his eyes before fading. There would be time for that later.  
"I was waiting for you, pet. No one wants a man whose heart is hidden." He groaned softly. "Yes you may touch my head, face, neck, back, arms, and chest. But if you go any lower... I will punish you." He growled and Sherlock shivered at the promised pain. "You are  _mine_. Do you have any idea how my blood has boiled all day, learning that another man once held your heart?" His voice was dark, full of emotion. But it betrayed the deep sentiment that made Sherlock so desperately want to regain control and prove to him that none of that mattered. "It was so hard not to throw you over the table, say forget dinner, and fuck you until you couldn't move."

"Christ, I would have enjoyed that a lot more than dinner." Sherlock said his own voice thick with lust. "Please sir, the next time you get that urge don't be afraid to act on it." He whispered as he pressed his lips over John's and kissed him heatedly. "I belong to you now, Master." He whispered, his lips hovering over John's. "I never let him touch me the way you are right now. I never let him see me like this. He never got this close to me...only you." Sherlock took John's bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it gently. John forgot he was the one in control for the moment and the two of them clashed in violent and deeply desirous kisses. When he finally pulled away his face was pleading one. "Please let me touch you a little lower? Please, Master?" John groaned and part of him said to give in and let Sherlock do the things he wanted. The part of his brain reeling from those hot kisses and boiling with desperate need, but that wasn't the right way to dominate. And he couldn't say for certain when Sherlock would ever let him do this again. He took a deep, slow breath to regain his composure. So he smirked and pulled Sherlock into a deep kiss before he stepped back.  
"Lay back on the table." He growled, clawing into Sherlock's hips as he helped him up. Sherlock gave a pout as he laid back on the table which was still somewhat cold and caused him to shiver. He was disappointed as now the only part of John he could reach was his waist and he sighed once he realized that. He pouted.

"You're very good at this. You're teasing me exactly how I would be teasing you if this was reversed." Sherlock rested a hand on his own stomach and slowly started to move toward his aching length. He smirked up at John, "May I touch myself, Master?" A small smack on the hand was his answer. But John's hand fluttered over Sherlock's cock making him almost shout at the sudden soft contact.  
"I do observe some things, pet, when I deem them important. Like exactly how much being touched and getting your way mean to you." His voice was thick with desire and it betrayed him slightly. Sherlock could easily see John was at the edge of his control and if he wasn't careful he would easily give the control back to Sherlock without thinking. As desperate to please the detective as he was. He moved Sherlock so he was at the very edge of the table, toying with his length. Sherlock bucked his hips slightly without thinking. "So eager to hurry." He licked over Sherlock's nipple, biting it lightly.

Sherlock gave a loud gasp, his back arching into his touch. It was amazing how John knew exactly what he wanted, what was even more astounding is that he was willing to do it. He was enthralled watching how John teetered on the edge of his desire to be controlled and was able to return to the task of keeping Sherlock under his control. It wasn't in John's nature to be this way, he clearly preferred to the submissive one. But here John was doing this because he knew how much Sherlock wanted it. John was selfless and perfect and it made Sherlock want to behave and please him even more. It was such a different style of control than he was used to. John wasn't forcing him with pain and harshness, he was coaxing him with gentleness and showing how deeply he knew things about him.

"We can go slow. We can do whatever you want, I'll behave." Sherlock promised breathlessly as he wrapped an arm around him and ran his fingers through his hair. Begging John to keep going. "You have complete control over me, Captain Watson." He whispered in his ear. John shuddered slightly, moaning. He let Sherlock touch him for a few minutes, desperate for it, before his mind kicked back into gear. He smirked.  
"Are you trying to get yourself spanked again?" He demanded, lowering his gaze to Sherlock's eyes with a deep authority radiating out of his eyes. He moved pinning Sherlock's hands down at his sides and taking his length in his mouth to the hilt. He sat perfectly still for a moment before giving a deep sucking pull and coming up, sitting still again with just the sensitive head in his mouth. His tongue teasing the small wet opening and moaning. Sherlock let out a moan once he felt John's hot wet mouth. He was desperate for more contact and because of that his mind just shattered apart with each contact John gave him. It wasn't enough, none of it was enough.

"Fuck, John." He panted, trying to remember how to speak correctly. "I'm sorry for touching you, Master. I thought touching was okay above the waist." He explained in quick breaths, almost panting. "Will you let me please you, Master? I want to. No I need to. You don't have to keep pleasing me. I'm already aching for you. Let me please you. That's what I'm meant for, Captain. For your pleasure, you can use me however you want. " John groaned loudly and almost fucked him right then, that desperate tone was one John hadn't heard since Sherlock was begging for cigarettes right after quitting. It was that desperate, absolutely shattered, not thinking straight tone and it shot straight to his cock and made it ache.

"Hm, I suppose I didn't tell you no more touching when you lay down." John pulled up leaving Sherlock's cock aching and desperate for more. He kissed Sherlock roughly. "God you taste so good. I have such a hard time keeping my hands off of you." He purred, leaning down and nuzzling his neck as he stroked him hard. "Is pleasing me what you want to be rewarded with?" He demanded coolly, nipping his ear a bit hard. "Is that what my pet wants as his reward? To have me use him for my enjoyment?"

"Yes, please." Sherlock whispered his voice shaking because how badly he wanted to. He leaned his into John's touch. That was the only thing he could do because he wasn't allowed to touch anymore and he was utterly desperate to feel more. Asking for things seemed to make John keen to give them to Sherlock, and that was a dangerous piece of knowledge to give him. "I want you to use me," He begged. Now he was entirely desperate to be under John's dominance. He wasn't sure when his mind switched but it became all he desperately wanted - to give John control and what he wants.

"Oh fuck," John groaned in his ear, his resolve slipping some but it was only momentary. He smirked. "Then I think you need to prepare me to take you." He was speaking softly but the words were firm in Sherlock's ear. "You may touch me, I will tell you when to stop. So show me how badly you want me to use you. Then, I'm going to bend you over this table and fuck you until either you or it breaks." He growled, before claiming Sherlock in another intensely passionate kiss, the dog tags brushing over Sherlock's chest as he did. Sherlock moaned into the kiss, John whispering such things into his ear simply drove him mad. He wrapped his arms around John and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

"I can do that." He assured the other in between kisses. "I can show you how badly I want you, John." He moved his hands under John's uniform to feel his back. Digging his nails into him as they kissed. John growled and kissed him furiously, clawing into his shoulders.

"Then do it." He commanded, pulling back. "If you want my cock buried in that sweet arse of yours make me want to use you." He was already very uncomfortable, his erection straining against the rough fabric of his pants. "Now." His need laced his voice. Sherlock closed his eyes just for a moment to try to think of how he could make it more obvious just how badly needed John. When he thought of something he pushed John off him so he could sink to his knees on the floor.

"Please, Sir. I can see how hard you are." He breathed, moving a hand to touch the bulge in John's trousers. "Please, let me have it. Let me have your cock." He placed his mouth over the bulge, trying to drive John absolutely mad. John groaned and his hips bucked against Sherlock's hands.

"I said prepare me, you may touch me as you wish. I will let you touch me how you want, but when I say stop you stop. Completely. When I tell you to stop you will bend over that table and present me your amazing arse. Do you understand?" He growled the question, demanding the answer.

_Shit, he had said that._

Everything John was saying to him was getting jumbled up in his mind. This is what John did to him, he made things confusing and it was wonderful.

"Yes, Sir." Without any warning he pulled down John's pants and gasped at the sight how hard John was. This may have been the hardest he had ever seen him. Jesus it did horrible things to Sherlock's ego again. Knowing how much he could turn this man on, how much this man wanted him was driving him crazy. "Oh, John." He took him into his mouth without any hesitation, sucking him deep into his throat while his hands gripped his arse.

"Shit." John groaned, his hips involuntarily bucking forward as Sherlock took him so deep. He was so hard, this was so fucking incredible. "God you're amazing... The things you do to me." He purred, bracing himself against the counter as Sherlock worked. "Fuck, just like that..." He grunted, one hand finding its' way into Sherlock's hair and gently gripping it. "So fucking gorgeous..." He kept muttering things like that knowing the appraisals would be welcomed. His legs trembled slightly but he held out, knowing he could wait until he was buried deep inside Sherlock to release. "That fucking mouth of yours... It's so hot. You must really want it." He whispered softly with a note of pleasure in his voice. "Is this what I do to you?" He demanded it but he really needed to hear it. Sherlock pulled his lips away, his eyes were watering a bit and his lips were wet from how deeply he'd taken John. He smiled up at John nodding as he now kissed his thighs sweetly.

"You do so many things to me, John. I just want you so badly. There is literally nothing in my mind right now but you and the want to please you." He took him into his mouth again, just as deep as the first time but now he hummed and moaned so John could feel the vibration.

"Sherlock!" He grunted, his fingers still wound in those locks but he was careful not to pull too hard. After a few more minutes he grunted. "Stop." He commanded. He couldn't wait anymore. They both needed it too much. "Bend over, hands on the table. I want some space between you and the table though. I'm going to stroke your amazing cock while I fuck you. Move, now." He ordered, producing his lube bottle from his jacket and not even bothering to step out of his pants. As soon as Sherlock moved he slicked lube over him and pushed two fingers in slowly, his other hand wrapped around Sherlock's length. "You're so hard and dripping... God yes... I'm going to use you, just like you asked." Sherlock let out a loud gasp, gripping the table hard as John pushed his fingers into him.

"Oh, John." He moaned his head dropping forward on to the table as he tried to rock back his fingers. "Oh God!" He growled wanting to thrust into John's hand and move back on his fingers at the same time. The sensations short circuiting his brain. "Fuck, John. Please give me more!" He begged, looking over his shoulder at him. "Please, Master." John grunted and abruptly stopped what he was doing. He grabbed the lube making sure he was well coated before he just pushed his way into Sherlock, utterly driven by need. He panted hard, the tags clinking slightly as his chest heaved.  
"Fucking hell, god damn..." He uttered, leaning down and pumping over Sherlock's cock as he pulled out and slammed back in. "Like that?"

"Oh God fuck me, yes!" Sherlock moaned. Yes, it did hurt a bit but in all honesty the pain was nothing compared to how mind blowingly good it felt. "Just like that, John. Use me." He cried, his hands gripping the sides of the table. Sherlock's mind was spinning with lust and desire as John slammed into him over and over, matching his stroking with his thrust causing him to moan loudly.

"Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you look right now?" John grunted, slamming into Sherlock. "Completely shivering and moaning like a fucking animal. So desperate for me to fuck you senseless." One hand gripping Sherlock's hip hard. He was sure he was going to bruise it but he was too far gone to care. The table slid forward but John just followed it continuing to hold Sherlock up and pump over him. "God yes, Sherlock. Tell me what you want, tell me what you need me to do to you." Sherlock actually let out a laugh when the table slid forward a few inches. Christ they were getting so carried away.

"Oh, let me get on the table. Please let me get on my back, I'll spread my legs for you and you can fuck me." He groaned as he felt John slip out of him. "Thank you, Thank you, John." He panted, stealing a heated kiss before he was pushed onto the table, his legs being opened by John. The desperation in John's movements driving Sherlock insane. "Slam into me. I can take it, John. Just fuck me. Use me." He growled, lust written all over his face and body.

"Jesus Sherlock, you'll make me go insane talking like that." John grunted and he slammed right back into him, leaning down and kissing him hard. He used the table for leverage to get deeper. "God you are so fucking tight. I'm going to cum so hard." He growled, pushing Sherlock's legs up so they were pressed against his shoulders and slamming into him even harder. "Touch yourself, I want you to fucking explode!" Sherlock didn't need to be told twice, he gripped his length and began pumping himself as fast as he could. He smirked up at John, they were both already so close.

"Do I please you, Sir?" He asked, keeping up the talk he knew John loved. "Do you like to watch me stroke my cock while you use my arse?" Those words seemed to be some sort of triggers because one he said them, John started slamming into him harder and faster. "Oh, Oh John!" He moaned, his back arching as he continued to wank his cock.

"Sherlock!" John grunted and he shouted as he just lost it. A few more furious pumps into him and he came hard, his hands gripped on Sherlock like a vice. He leaned down moving his hips as best he could until Sherlock tumbled over and he felt both of them go boneless. He let Sherlock's legs lower, panting hard and just staring in his eyes. Sherlock smiled up at John, his heart pounding in his chest. His ears were ringing and his body was covered with chills as he laid there panting.

"Thank you," He whispered and when he felt John slowly pull out of him, he gave a whimper. Sherlock moved to sit up but apparently that was what finally did in the old table. The second Sherlock heard the crack of wood breaking he jumped up and moved to hold onto John. When he turned around, one of the tables legs broke off and the table fell. Sherlock let out a giggle as he hid his face in John's neck. "We actually broke the fucking table." He giggled. John fell back against the counter, holding Sherlock to him and dissolving into a loud fit of giggles.  
"Mrs. Hudson is going to kill us." He whispered, still trying to stop laughing. He held Sherlock tightly to him, his face pressed against his neck, still chuckling softly. "Shall we go to bed before we break anything else?" Maybe if they were lucky Mrs. Hudson wouldn't come up for a few more days and then they'd have time to fix the table. Once Sherlock finally stopped giggling like a child, he pulled his face away and shook his head.

"Not yet, Captain." He whispered, but there was no lust behind like before. He took John's dog tags off and slipped them around his own neck. Then he helped him get his shirt and those boots off. "Now we'll go to bed." He told John once they were both finally naked save the dog tags now around Sherlock's neck. The kitchen floor was covered in their clothes but Sherlock didn't care. They'd clean up later, right now he wanted to bask in the glow of this incredible moment. He took his lovers hand and led him to the bedroom. He curled up against John the moment they were laying down. "We must try to break the plates in the cupboards next." He said with a soft chuckle.

"Oh no we don't." John giggled but he cuddled into Sherlock. "Yes you can have those by the way." He let his finger trail over the tags and over Sherlock's chest. A mix of emotions on his face as he processed what could have been. He brought himself back to the present moment and laughed. "I'm glad you enjoyed that because I really had no idea what the hell I was doing." He chuckle a bit. "Then again, that's life with you all over isn't it?" He pressed soft kisses over Sherlock's cheeks. "Was that uniform everything you hoped for?"

"Oh, John." He breathed, a big grin on his face. "It was everything and more." He moved his lips to Johns and kissed him very slowly, not wanting to pull away just yet. When he finally did though he was still smiling. "I don't think I had ever been so aroused in my life." He giggled. "You did amazing," He kissed John again and again until he felt like he was being foolish. His hand now rested on the dog tags feeling the cool metal. "I should have asked if I could have these first but I wanted them." He smiled shyly before he ran a hand through John's hair.

"If you had asked I would have been surprised." John grinned but he moved so he could snog Sherlock, kissing him until he was almost about to pass out. "I'm glad it was so good for you, because it was bloody amazing to watch how much depriving you of touching me drives you nuts." He whispered, his forehead against Sherlock's. "I definitely want to do that again sometime."


	6. Shadow of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor steals Sherlock's attention while the pair are coming down from the high of their game which exposes John's insecurities - which Sherlock tried to banish by explaining to John just how important he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit shorter than the last few mostly because of the way we've broken up the story. The story is complete all that's left is editing! Chapter 7 should go up soon depending on studying and exams!

                Sherlock smirked as John said he wanted to dominate him again, wearing that amazing uniform he hoped. His heart fluttering at the thought, oh he would love to do that again. If John wanted hell he'd be willing to start all over again right now. That was how much he loved being with John. How much he enjoyed seeing how deeply John enjoyed being Captain Watson.

                                "Maybe next time I can be the one that wears a uniform?" Sherlock asked with a wink. "Would you like it if I wore the colonel’s uniform?" He smirked as he ran his hand up and down John's chest.

                                "I uhm..." John blushed and then laughed. "I don't know about that. I suppose we'd call that one an experiment." He moaned softly. His body still seemingly on edge and enjoying the feel of Sherlock’s touches. "Just what is going on in that head of yours?" He whispered softly. Sherlock smirked. Experiments. He loved experiments and he was sure experimenting with John would be even better than doing and of his scientific experiments.

                                “Hm?" Sherlock hummed as he continued to stroke John's firm chest. "There's nothing really going on up here," He confessed as he pressed his lips to John's cheek and kissed it a few times. "My head is just filled with you: I'm thinking about how much I love you, what sort experiments you and I are going to do... My mind is currently fixated on you and to be honest I suddenly don't mind at all."   

                                "That's sweet, but I doubt it's so innocent. I love you." John grinned and moaned again, his eyes fluttering closed. Christ he hadn't felt this aroused around someone since he was a teen. His body stirring again even though he'd just... The memory crowded into his brain and he grunted. "What have I gotten into?" He smirked.

                                "You're already ready to go again?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. He honestly hadn't meant to arouse John again but somehow just giving him simple touches and kissing him seemed to make him react. The thought that he had that much power over John’s senses rushed through his body.

 

_Fuck._

 

                Now _he_ was aroused again. 

                                "Jesus, I may not be able to keep up with you." Sherlock teased but he pulled John on top of him and made him straddle his hips. "Would you like to ride my cock, pet?" He asked with a grin as he ran his hands over John's legs.

                                "I'm not all the way there but damn..." John grunted fire roaring through his body. "It's you. It's how you touch me. I don't think I will ever actually get used to it." He leaned down and kissed Sherlock. "I don't know what I want right now except to keep kissing you." He blushed kissing him again and swallowing hard when he broke away for air. 

                                "Then we can keep doing that." Sherlock whispered, his lips finding John's neck which he started ravishing with kisses. "If you just want to keep kissing then we'll just kiss to the point of exhaustion." He brought his lips to John's again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with a groan. John’s breath was ragged and broken, pulling Sherlock easily back into the fluid place their attraction took them to.

                                "Oh my god, Sherlock," John groaned and let his hands slip into Sherlock's hair. He pressed their mouths together hard, nipping and suckling on his bottom lip in return. "You are dangerously good at this." Sherlock gave wince of pleasure as he felt John’s teeth glide over his sensitized lips.

                                "Shit," He breathed not being able to stop himself from cursing. "You aren't so bad yourself, John." He smirked before bringing him down into a deeper kiss their tongues moving together furiously. Just as Sherlock shifted his hips so his burgeoning erection rubbed against John’s thighs, a ring from his phone indicated he had text message. With a groan of annoyance Sherlock pulled out of the kiss. "Hold on," he mumbled before reaching over and grabbing it. John sighed in disappointment but turned his attention to Sherlock without voicing a complaint.

_How is the stuff I left with you treating you? Well, I hope. VT_

  
                Sherlock noticeably changed, his body tensed, his eyes widened a bit with fear as he started to text Victor back.

 

_I didn't take it. Leave me alone, Victor. SH_

 

                John took the change easily and rolled over so he was still close by Sherlock. He was sort of annoyed at the mood change but he also had experienced it before. Sherlock was easily affected by his environment. It did however get the doubt rolling again in his stomach, that thought that was pervading his mind and telling him that all of these moments with Sherlock could be snatched away so easily.  
                                "Is it him?" He asked softly. There was that feeling again in his chest. Was it rage? No it was something different... Jealousy was closer but still not quite right. He tried to keep it from his face, knowing it had nothing to do with Sherlock and everything to do with his own insecurities. He let his hand rest gently on Sherlock's chest, keeping them physically connected. Sherlock could hardly feel the hand on his chest as he focused on the screen. His heart was pounding, his thoughts easily ripped from the tender moment they’d been sharing and into the ravaged spinning chaos of his mind again. He thought Victor was going to leave him alone now. Victor had said he would but now he was texting him at some ungodly hour.

                                "Yes," He heard himself answer John. His voice flat, lacking emotion completely. John tensed but he didn’t notice.

 

_I gave you that stash for free and you didn't use? Do you realize how much that stuff was worth? VT_

 

_Yes, I do. I have bought it before. It is not my fault you were stupid enough to give it to me. SH_

 

_Don't you fucking start calling me stupid, Sherlock. You're the fucking one who goes through psychotic withdrawals. Not me. VT_

 

                Sherlock didn't notice but his hands were shaking now as he replied. John felt trapped in the room, Sherlock was distant and nothing was reaching him. He was fixated on Victor and their conversation. It was sort of like a punch in the stomach.

 

_...I'm sorry. But I'm not interested in buying anymore. You and I have no reason to stay in contact. SH_

 

_You think you can just get rid of me? VT_

 

_Yes. Usually you go away when I tell you to. SH_

 

_Well, not this time. I rely on your fucking money, Sherlock. If you stop buying... You're going to buy from me again. VT_

 

_When hell freezes over. SH_

 

_Perfect, because I know when it does. As soon as I can get you away from that little solider of yours, you're buying. VT_

 

_And just to be clear, you're going to use it to because I refuse to let my products go to waste. VT_

 

                                "John," Sherlock whispered suddenly sounding terrified as he dropped the phone next to him. 

                                "I'm right here." John whispered and sat up slightly. He rubbed his hand over Sherlock's arm, trying to soothe him. "Right here, love," He didn't want to crowd him but he felt like contact was the only way to cut through this fear. John let himself feel the emotion of Sherlock's fear without letting it overwhelm him like before, he stayed strong and focused. "Talk to me Sherlock, what is it? What did he say?" John was rigid but in a way that was protective of Sherlock, he was ready to jump up and into action if necessary. His nerves were gone and he was back to the protective soldier - the one who shot a cabbie, the one who followed Sherlock into every danger they had encountered and come out just fine from it. "What do you need me to do?" Sherlock felt his heart pounding almost painfully hard in his chest. Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't Victor just leave him alone? He didn't use to be this way. With shaking hands he picked up the phone again, much to John’s displeasure.

 

_You wouldn't force me to do drugs. You're better than that. You have to be. SH_

 

_...I haven't been better than anything in a long time, Sherly. VT_

 

                Sherlock swallowed hard and handed John the phone. He couldn't tell him what was wrong. He couldn't speak but he could show John what had him so petrified. John took the phone and quickly flipped through the messages, he wanted to respond but he knew better so instead he put the phone behind him and took Sherlock's hands in his.

 

_You need drugs. Just as badly as I do. I'm helping you, Sherlock Why can't you see that? VT_

 

                                "Sherlock look at me, look," He said firmly, almost as a command. He turned Sherlock's face so their eyes met. "He won't hurt you. He's likely strung out, he's desperate, and whatever feelings he had for you are likely twisted up in this. You're with me now; you're relying on me - not him. That has taken the power from him and he's trying to threaten you to make you slip so he can get it back. You're okay, you're safe. We're safe." He whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead to his lovers’. "It'll be okay love, breathe. Focus on me and breathe." He kept repeating that and other words of comfort and reassurance, keeping their contact. "I love you Sherlock Holmes, nothing will ever change that. You're better than this. You're being so strong, you're doing so well. You know right where I put those vials and you haven't gone for them. You can do this. Don't let him win, no matter what we will get through this together. We'll be okay." Sherlock took several deep breaths because he felt like he was having a panic attack. It was getting harder to breathe after each breath but he tried his hardest to focus on John. He gripped John's shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin slightly. His anchor, John was his anchor and he needed to stay right here with him. Those drugs were in John's room tucked in one of his old jackets. Sherlock hadn't gone looking for them; he just simply deduced it like he did everything.

                                "J-John, he'll force me." He whispered, shutting his eyes tight. "He keeps a gun on him, he'll use it. He knows how to get to me, John. It wouldn't be like if any stranger cornered me. He knows how to manipulate me."  He could already picture it happening in his mind. "I...I don't want to." He almost whimpered suddenly wrapping his arms around John and clinging to him, reminding himself that John was and would always be his anchor. John wrapped him in his arms, pulling him so he could sit up and wrap himself completely around the shaking detective. 

                                "I keep a gun too. Guns aren't anything; we've faced people with guns before. Six snipers, do you remember?" He whispered, rubbing his back. "Strapped with a bomb and sniper sights on our chests and we were ready to do whatever it took. We've faced chemicals too, that fog in Baskerville - we can face this. This isn't like before, you aren't alone. And we have the upper hand too, because once he sets foot in this flat - or really anywhere near it - he has eyes all over him. You know Mycroft won't let anyone hurt you here and since you're not leaving this flat without me he can't get you. I don't care if he draws a gun on me, we'll make it out. We always do. He can't force you and if he does I swear he'll answer to me." He wasn't trying to let it but his anger boiled over in the words. He rocked Sherlock slightly trying to force his anger down.  "Maybe we should go away from Baker Street for awhile... He wouldn't be able to find us."  Sherlock knew John was right. He knew it but yet he was still afraid. His body was betraying him once again just like in Baskerville. He was more prone to having these sorts of emotions now. He knew it was okay to show himself like this in front of John but he feared he would break like this in front of anyone now.

                                "He'd find us." Sherlock mumbled. "Victor can be very... Persistent once he gets like this."  Yes, there were a few times where Victor had threatened him and acted obsessive.  But Victor never committed to his threat, although, that was mostly because Sherlock would give in before he could. "I bet he's watching us. Or he has paid someone to watch us. He knows how to use my network."

                                "Yes but Mycroft is watching us too." John said softly. "We will be okay. It's alright, we have help. We can do this Sherlock." He truly believed it too, he kept saying things to reassure him, still holding him tightly. "Don't worry, it's harder for you now because you're still detoxing." He put his hands through Sherlock's hair, desperately trying to reassure him. "We're stronger than him because we're together and we trust each other. It'll be okay." Sherlock gazed into his eyes. John honestly believed that. He wished he could believe it too but all that was coming to his mind were worse case scenarios. And he kept wondering why part of him felt badly for Victor. He shouldn't, but the idea of Victor being on the streets without money made his heart ache. Having an idea, he moved to grab his phone, ignoring John's protest.

_I won't take the drugs. I won't buy any from you. But if you need money I will give it to you. SH_

 

                He showed the message he sent to John, biting on his lower lip. John sighed, for a man who claimed to be logical he was being rather rash all of a sudden.

                                "If he doesn't accept it, I can't help him." Sherlock said quickly, he wasn't used to this – to all this emotion flooding through him at once. He couldn't imagine just turning away from Victor. He'd never been able to do that. That's why they were having this problem now; he'd never been able to turn his back on Victor. He couldn’t because Victor was the first person who didn't treat him like a freak in school.  "I can't," Sherlock whispered shaking his head, reading the look on John’s face. "He was my friend once; I can't just leave him behind like he's not important anymore."  When his phone buzzed he looked down at the message.

 

_Why the hell would you just want to hand over the money? VT_

 

_Because we used to be friends, Victor. SH_

 

_...I don't want fucking handouts!! I want to do business! VT_

 

                Sherlock gave a sigh, now just feeling frustrated as he hit the bed with his fist once.

                                "Goddamn stubborn bastard." He cursed himself even as he spat the words about Victor.

                                "I'm not asking you to turn away from him." John whispered softly, emotion welling up in his eyes. "I want to help him; I want to help you help him. But, he's an addict. Sometimes addicts don't want help." John sighed and looked away. "Like Harry..." He was staring at the wall now, not wanting to betray all of the things he was feeling. "And no matter how much you might want to help him he may not want it love." He didn't say it right now but he was thinking of the day before when he was terrified Sherlock might have felt the same about his help now. He shook slightly and clenched his hands together, giving Sherlock some space.  "We'll be alright." He whispered.

                                "What's wrong?" Sherlock asked him suddenly, he could read that something was wrong on his face and his body. He was... Shit he couldn't figure out _what_ was he was. Upset? Scared? Angry? There were so many emotions written all over John and he couldn't figure out which one he was. "Why do you look like that?" He asked sounding concerned but then his phone buzzed and he looked down to see another message.

 

_Fine. I'll come by to get it tomorrow. VT_

 

                Sherlock smiled a bit, maybe hope wasn't lost completely. Sherlock once again forgot about John as he continued to text Victor. Something he was sure he'd regret later but he really couldn't stop himself. John just sat there in silence, shaking slightly. John tried several times to get Sherlock's attention but it was focused on his phone and his texts, so John just slid down on the bed and turned over.

 

_No. Not here. You won't see me. I'll have my brother and one of his people bring you the money. SH_

 

_How much do you need? SH_

 

_I need a lot but I can live with a few thousand. VT_

 

_Alright. I'll send you 3000 pounds. SH_

 

_Can I just pick it up somewhere? I'm not exactly staying at a real address._

 

_Yes. You can pick it up at my brother's office. Don't worry. He won't harm you. SH_

 

_Alright...VT_

 

_Thanks. VT_

 

_You're welcome. SH_

 

_Why are you doing this for me, Sherlock? Really? No more of that friend bullshit. VT_

 

_I'm not lying. I'm helping you because I care about you. You were my first friend. SH_

 

_...Boyfriend as well but I guess you choose to forget that. VT_

 

_No. You were my first boyfriend as well. I'm not afraid to say it. SH_

 

_Why would you care about me at all, Sherlock? I've treated you like shit. VT_

 

_You didn't use to. You used to be my friend and I'm hoping acting like your friend again we'll help you. SH_

 

_You're wasting your time..Tell Johnny Boy I said goodnight. ;) VT_

 

_Goodnight, Victor. SH_

 

                Sherlock smiled some and lifted his phone to show John what had just happened but John was now curled up, laying down with his back to him. He was also trembling slightly.

                                "John?" He asked with confusion.

                                "He's going to let you help then?" John asked softly, he rolled over but was still a bit rigid, his voice a mask hiding his true emotion. He could hear the happiness in Sherlock's tone. He didn't want to feel this way but it hurt that Sherlock hadn't heard a thing he'd said. "I'm glad." He stared at the ceiling, trying to let go of the emotion clawing around inside his chest. He wondered if Victor was really the one that Sherlock wanted. Suddenly all of the insecurity that John had managed to force away came back with gusto. He tried to keep it from his face, to keep his face blank and devoid of emotion. But he still trembled.

 

_Damn it... All of this emotion... It's so much..._

 

                                He closed his eyes tight, taking slow deep and controlled breaths, counting to ten with each inhalation and exhalation as he tried to let the emotion go.

                                "I'm alright." He forced out, but it was a blatant and clear lie. 

                                "No, you're not." Sherlock whispered, setting his phone aside and curling up next to John. He wrapped his arms around his lover and kissed his cheeks many times. "There's something wrong. I just don't know what it is. You have to tell me what it is so I can help you." He ran a hand through the blonde tousled hair. "Did I upset you?" He asked, sounding worried. "John, I m so sorry, I didn't mean to." He meant it completely even though he had no idea what he had done. 

                                "You didn't even hear what I said, did you?" John asked softly, looking away. He shuddered again. "Never mind." He closed his eyes again, counting his breaths. "I'm glad that Victor is going to let you help him. I just..." He wanted to be stronger than this; it physically hurt to feel all of these things. All at once his mask fell apart and all of the insecurity and hurt he was feeling flooded across his face. He shook from a combination of the feelings and a deep sorrow that was threatening to swallow him whole. 

 

_What if he does want Victor?_

 

                                "I'll be alright Sherlock; I'm just feeling a lot of stuff all at once." Sherlock frowned; his own heart was aching now because John wouldn't tell him what was wrong. Apparently, he already had and Sherlock didn't hear him. But...that wasn't his fault was it? He had got distracted. No, that was exactly why it was his fault but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

                                "Why are you lying to me?" Sherlock whispered sounding small and worried as nuzzled his nose into the back of John neck. Trying to get John to warm up to him and reveal what he was feeling. "I am the one who hides feelings, not you. I thought you trusted me enough to talk about these things. I trust you enough to let you know everything I am feeling, do you no longer trust me?" His voice was accusatory and hurt.

                                "Because..." John sat up and shook with a silent sob. "Because I was trying to reassure you, trying to support you and I was trying to tell you that I understood how you feel because I've had not one, but two addicts in my life that I have faced this with. One of whom doesn't want my help and is likely busy leading herself into financial ruin and the other whom..." He bit his tongue, aware his emotion was getting the better of him. "I do trust you; otherwise I would be gone already... I just..." He took a deep, ragged breath and clenched his fists. "Would you rather... I mean I can help you get him clean..." He swallowed hard, trying to shove the emotion down. 

 

_I'm not good enough. I'm not enough, no matter what I do I won't be enough... I'm going to lose him too aren't I?_

 

                He put his face in his hands. Sherlock felt panic seem into his veins.

 

_Oh no. Oh no, I messed up here. I… I should have paid attention._

 

                Sherlock wrapped his arms around John from behind, leaving tender kisses on both his shoulder and neck trying to make John’s tightness fade away.

                                "I wouldn't ask you to do something like that for me," Sherlock whispered, kissing his ear.  "But if you truly want to help, you can. I'd be glad that you were there. I've never been through this with someone. You have, sadly. You know how to help. If it won't be too much on you and these tense shoulders, I will happily accept your help."  John wanted to ask him, wanted to tell him he needed to be stupid and childish and hear the words, but his voice stuck. He let Sherlock's touch calm him slightly but the insecurity he was feeling was still rocketing through his body, making him shiver. 

                                "He's important to you," He finally forced out in a tiny voice. He felt incredibly stupid but Sherlock was right, he'd shown his feelings, so now John needed to. "If you'd... If you'd rather..." He took another deep shaking breath and closed his eyes. "If you'd rather be with him or something I'll help you make it okay. I just... Need you safe." There he'd said it, the stupid childish feelings that were banging around his chest: jealousy, anger, hate, insecurity, all of it. "I just... Fuck this hurts." John grunted. Sherlock's eyes widened with hurt and surprise.

 

_This is what all this is about? He thinks I want to be with Victor? What have I done to make him think such a thing?_

_"_ Oh, John. My John, My sweet, beautiful, and amazing John," Sherlock continued to hug him close, his lips kissing every inch of skin he could find, each of the kisses trying to reassure him that he did not in fact want Victor.

 

_He needs to know I love him. Only him. He has to know that._

                               

                                "I love you," he whispered in his ear, "Only you." He brought his lips to his back, leaving kisses there as well, "I care about Victor, but only as my friend. You, you are my life. You are my world." He was back at his ear again while his hands stroked John's chest in soothing circles. "You don't have to be in pain right now. My heart, body, and mind belong to you."

                                "I've never talked about Harry with you before... I was trying and you just..." He shook, hard. It felt like a slap in the face. He tried to reason this away, he was too tired or too tense from dinner... But that wasn't the truth. The truth was he didn't feel like he was enough anymore.  "He grabs your attention just by sending you a message," His voice was low as he spoke, partially for feeling childish and partially from the jealousy and hurt. "He has for awhile now. Just like _she_ did. I'm not like them. I'm just a normal ordinary man. I'm not..." He couldn't say it even though it was circling his head.  "Maybe I'm just too tired." He said dismissively, trying to shelve his emotion. Sherlock didn't dare let him go. He held him tighter in fact still kissing his skin trying to let him know his heart was his here. It wasn't anywhere else, it was right here in John's hands he just needed to remember that. 

                                "You're anything but ordinary, John." He spoke into his ear, "You're wonderful and interesting and you can make me laugh. Victor could never make me laugh. Only you could do that. And Irene certainly never made me laugh. She just piqued my curiosity for a moment." He nuzzled his nose into John's hair, trying to figure out a way to prove that he was more than just an ordinary man. He needed to prove that he loved him. Then he remembered it: a file on his laptop that he’d written about John when they first met.  "Stay here." He whispered as he jumped off the bed and hurried into the living room. He came back with his laptop and logged on. "No, don't you go lying down. I want you to read this." Sherlock insisted as he pulled John back up and wrapped his arms around him like before. 

"Now, read it. I wrote this a few days after you shot that cabbie for me-" He sighed and tried to say the right words. "You're not being childish, John. You feel ordinary and unwanted. I made you feel that way because I ignored you, but you're not. Read this file so you know that I never thought you were and  never will be." He ordered. John slowly sat up to look at the file, taking the well guarded laptop easily in his hands.

 

_This amazing... Most courageous man just saved my life. He has only known me for a few hours and yet he rushed across London and saved me. Of course I told him there was never really any risk, I lied, and I am quite sure he knew it. Yes, I am a show off and I was willing to risk my life to prove I was clever. To not be bored anymore... John just knew that about me. In a matter of hours I managed to turn his entire world upside down and he had an out. He could have just let me take that damn pill; no one would have known or blamed him. It was my own choice. But no. John Watson, that utterly handsome solider just had to save my life and... Well really it is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I still don't know why he would have done such a thing, especially for me but I'm glad he did. Because... If I had been wrong (which I wasn't), I would have died. I don't mind dying really but I would mind terribly if I had not had the opportunity to get to know John more. He's already proving to be the most interesting person I have ever met. It will be interesting to see how my life changes now..._

_..._

_He's written a blog about that case... He called it... A Study in Pink. He actually finds my work fascinating. He's been going on about it for days now. It's all he talks about really, over tea in the morning... Calling out appraisals of me while he reads about the case in the paper... He called me brilliant and says I'm extraordinary... Who is this man?_

_..._

_I've almost completely memorized his routine and noticed several interesting facts about what he does. He checks on me before he goes into the shower in the morning, tries to find out if I'm sleeping or not. If I am sleeping or he thinks I am sleeping he adjusts his entire routine so as not to disturb me. If I'm not sleeping he sings in the shower, I know that's not really interesting (no in fact it's rather common) but just knowing that he feels that at home here makes me smile. He thinks I can't hear him but I can and it's wonderful (he isn't always on tone but his voice has this excellent quality to it, especially in the bathroom). He also snores when he's a sleep sometimes, he fell asleep on the couch during our last case and it was quite endearing. I find myself learning everything I can about him and his habits, making a list of them in my mind. No sugar in his coffee, he drinks tea when he is upset or worried, his nightmares occur less when someone is in close proximity to him, etc. I don’t observe these things on purpose it's just all being stored into my mind automatically. My hard drive apparently wants to know everything about John Watson. I'm starting to fear my innocent musing could turn into sentiment..._

 

_Shit. I'm going to need extra security on this file._

 

                John's breathing grew heavy as the emotion he was feeling threatened to break free. He read the words over and over again, at least twelve times before he felt he could speak.

                                "I..." Everything dissolved into the one inescapable feeling he was fighting, fear. He was absolutely terrified that Sherlock was going to give up on him. That he was going to lose him. That he, John Watson, simply wasn't enough for him. He reached up and grabbed Sherlock's hands tightly, so tightly his knuckles started to go white, because he couldn't force the words out. He turned to look at Sherlock and searched his eyes. "Why me?" He asked in barely a whisper but his body slowly relaxed some. Sherlock wasn't expecting this. He was honestly hoping John would relax, lie back down and just realize that he loved him. Why did there need to be a reason. Despite his hands being gripped so tightly, he managed to stroke a thumb over the top of John's hand as he gazed into his eyes.

                                "I could go on all day as to why, John. But I think the honest answer is because when you walked into my life, you didn't judge me. You accepted me. When most people called me a freak, or thought I was strange for my only friend being a skull, you never questioned it. You accepted it as part of me. You let me be myself. After merely hours I realized I didn't have to try to impress you anymore. You were honestly already impressed with me. You... You made me feel wanted. Do you know how many people made me feel like I was honestly wanted?" He asked and when John mumbled Victor's name, Sherlock sighed. "No. Not even Victor. When he was my boyfriend I felt like all he wanted was to shag me, when we were friends it was just for a companion, and now it's just for someone to buy drugs. He made me feel unimportant. But you... You make me feel like I matter."  

                                "You do matter." He whispered, his shoulders sagging some. "You've always mattered. Others see it too, but they don't... I don't know what they don't." He laughed softly but a tear fell. "I had no one and nothing. It's hard for me Sherlock, Harry walked away from my help. I'm terrified you will too." He let the words fall into the open, though he was ashamed for them. "I don't want to live without you and I'm stupidly jealous of Victor. It's like fire in my veins. It makes me want to mark you all over like an animal so everyone, bloody everyone, knows you Sherlock Homes, are mine. I've never felt this way before. I feel like an idiot." He ran his hand over his face, his shoulders slowly relaxing more.

                                "I will never walk away from you or your help." Sherlock promised him, thinking he that of all the things John confessed he should start there first. He straddled John's lap and wrapped his arms around him. "John Watson, you're not an idiot." He insisted as pressed their foreheads together. "What you're feeling is normal, I have felt it too. Every time you brought one of your idiotic dates home I wanted to drag you off to my room and prove that you belonged to _me_. That's a normal reaction; at least, it is to me." He rubbed his nose against John's, "You can mark me if you want. I'll let you. It doesn't even have to be a sexual thing. If you want I'll even get your name tattooed on me." Sherlock offered with a smile. "Victor always wanted us to get tattoos but I told him I would never scar my body like that. But I would for you. I can get your name on one of my fingers." He stretched his pinky finger in front of John's face, making it stand and bend over and over again. He was just trying to make John smile again. "Look, I think it'd look nice right here." He pointed to the inside of his finger with a grin. "I can see it now. You're name written in a nice font with black ink." John grinned in spite of himself at the way Sherlock kept flexing that finger. Sherlock kept wiggling his finger in John's face until he giggled and then he looked proud of himself.

                                "No, I wouldn't want that. I just... I never expected you felt this way about me and now that I know - really know how much you feel it's sort of terrifying. You get bored so easily, which makes me afraid tomorrow you'll think I'm dull. Your mind needs a challenge, a puzzle to solve but I'm transparent and easy to figure out. I want to be beside you for..." He blushed a bit. "Well for a really long time for sure. I'm full of doubt and insecurity right now. Drugs are hard enough to detox from when you're not Sherlock Holmes and now this guy Victor is trying to scare you into relapsing already... I worry I won't be enough. The rage is gone and it takes all my confidence with it."

                                "John, if you weren't enough. I would already be using drugs again." Sherlock said, his hand running through John's hair. "If you were boring or dull, we wouldn't be as close as we are. From the moment we met, you were the most amazing person in the world. You became the center of my attention." He smiled brightly.  He grabbed John's face in his hands, softly stroking his cheek. "Let me try to explain how much you affect me, John. To explain how much your supposedly ordinary and dull life has affected me."  Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to gather all the thoughts racing around in his head.  "Before you came along my life was filled with darkness. Emptiness. I kept searching for a someone: a friend, a companion, anyone. Just someone who would honestly just accept me. I found no one like that. It was just me in the darkness with a few little stars to make the way a bit easier. My brother, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson... I'm not counting Victor because he didn't make feel accepted. Those were the people I had in my life who felt accepted me but often their faces told me they wished I was a bit different. But I still didn't have someone who accepted me the way I was. Completely accepted me. Someone who made the world brighter. But then you... You walked into the lab at Saint Bart's and it was like the sun had walked in. Suddenly everything was on fire and it was wonderful! It was brilliant and beautiful... But when I left you... When I had to leave the orbit my sun was in for those three years... Everything went dark. Darker than dark. I couldn't even see the tiny stars anymore, John. You had blinded me. Without you there was no more reason for anything." He pressed their foreheads together again, so their eyes were locked. "If that doesn't prove that you're more than enough for me, I don't know what will." He was slightly put off by the shadow that flickered across John's eyes, but he understood. That time had been darkness for both of them.

_Oh why that... Why that now?_

 

                John's breath caught in his lungs and he shook hard, his eyes burning into Sherlock's. That had to have been one of the most powerfully romantic things anyone had ever said to him. It reminded him of the darkness that threatened to devour him whole and yet it proved to him that it was worth it, because Sherlock had come home, he'd come home to _him_.

                                "The number of times I almost..." John shook his head; they'd discussed this all already. They'd talked about how much he wanted to end himself because he'd missed Sherlock, but it truly had been so many times. "It's still worrying to me. I still feel like I am nothing... I'm still going to feel it. Even if I know the truth. I'm sorry it's stupid and childish of me to act like this. But it's hard. I love you and if I ever lose you I won't even think twice about walking out of this life. You are my world and you have been for so long... I love you."

                                "I love you too, John. You must know that." Sherlock said before pressing his lips to his sweetly.  "I understand that you still feel insecure but know that I love you no matter what. You don't have to be sorry. You really don't. I have insecurities myself." He kissed John's lips again, running his fingers through the back of his hair. "I'm going to be here with you. I'm going to help you ease your mind." John moaned softly into the kiss as his body finally gave in and totally relaxed, he wrapped his arms around Sherlock holding him tightly.

                                "I honestly have never felt so much emotion for one person in all my life. The idea of you having ever been touched by anyone else before me is infuriating. Though it's childish to think that way," He let their foreheads rest together, enjoying the closeness. "I will go wherever you lead, just as I always have."

                                "He never touched me romantically." Sherlock assured him with a smile as he hugged John tightly to him. "He tried to," he mumbled. "But he never pleasured me. He never got to see my skin. He's never got to touch me and hear me the way you have." His soft smile turned into a smirk as he kissed John a little harder. "Maybe I really should get that tattoo to make you feel better," He teased. 

                                "Don't be an idiot." John teased back and he met Sherlock's kisses with equal intensity, moaning loudly as he did. "Thank you, Sherlock. I know it's hard to share all of this with me, but thank you. I needed it."

                                "I could tell. And it's not as hard to share it when I know you need to hear it." Sherlock explained as he continued to kiss John with a surprising heat. Shit, if they weren't careful they could end up shagging all over again. "We better be careful, I'm already starting to get turned on, John." 

                                "I believe I did mention earlier that it would be a miracle if we made it out of bed." John giggled and kissed him again. "Stop kissing me so bloody well and I'll stop responding. Otherwise just do whatever the hell you want with me." He purred the words as he claimed Sherlock's mouth again.

                                "Oh fuck that was not the right thing to say to me." He said, growling with lust as he continued to kiss John with intensity. "I told you don't say that because when you say things like that I really will do them." 

                                "I told you before Sherlock, I don't just  _say_  things. If it comes out of my mouth I either feel it to be true or I mean it." He groaned loudly, kissing back with as much intensity as Sherlock gave. "I meant it, do what you want with me."

                                "Fuck it all to hell we're never going to leave this bed," Sherlock groaned as he pushed John onto his back with a grin. "I'm already hard," He whispered, his grin widening as he started to stroke his cock. "Just lay there, John." He ordered, watching John starting to reach for him. He groaned and lifted his hips and without any warning slammed down onto John's cock with a loud moan that echoed off the walls. John immediately groaned and tried to reach for him again but Sherlock smacked his hands away. "Ah, don't touch me. Just lay there and let me use you." He growled as he immediately started to rock his hips. It burned slightly, but he was still loose from their earlier actions. He growled, moving harder. "Let's see how fast I can make you cum inside me, John." 

                                "FUCK SHERLOCK!" John shouted, completely unable to restrain himself. Whatever he had expected Sherlock to do, that was not fucking it. His mind sputtered to a halt and went insanely blank. It took all he had not to grab onto Sherlock and move, his hips fighting not to buck up into Sherlock as he worked. "Oh my God, what the... Sherlock!" He whimpered and groaned, thrashing his head slightly.

                                "You love it, John. I can feel you inside me. You're so hard." Sherlock moaned as he took one of John's hands and placed it on his cock. "Stroke me." He ordered, already driven mad by his lust. John had told him to have his way with him. Sherlock was doing exactly that. John started stroking him hard, using that small allowed movement to speak for him. "Fuck, yes. Just like that, John!" He moaned loudly, as he started to bounce a bit on John's length. "I'm using you, John, just like you want me to." He smirked down at his lover before meeting his lips with a heated kiss. John was reduced to noises: grunts, whimpers, and moans. He stroked Sherlock with as much focus as he could manage but he was blank, his entire attention focused on Sherlock's tightness wrapped around him. He panted and frantically tried to kiss Sherlock as the man worked him over, his body already frantically trying to move. He struggled to stay still, transfixed by every motion Sherlock made.

                                "Oh God!" He shouted, arching his back. Sherlock let out a loud moan when John's back arched because his hips rose a bit.

                                "Oh- Oh fuck the not moving rule." He panted, now desperate to go over the edge because he was so close. "Just fuck me." He ordered, growling with need as took his own cock in hand and started stoke it. "Just fuck me; I'm close, just fuck me hard, Please!" He begged.

                John's body took over and he grabbed Sherlock's hips, slamming him down over his own cock hard. He was already shaking and moaning and just an overall mess, so it didn't take long for him to feel his body clenching hard, ready to explode. He slammed Sherlock into himself a few more times, arching his back to swipe across that sensitive spot before he shouted Sherlock's name and an orgasm ripped through his body. He held on for a bit longer until Sherlock's hot seed splashed over both of their chests and then he utterly collapsed, panting for breath.   
                                "Sher-Sherlock..." Was all he could say.

                Which was more than Sherlock could say, his mind blissfully blank now and now all he could do was lie on top of John panting and making faint moaning sounds as he came down from the orgasmic high. He shivered every few seconds while his ears rung. He still couldn't make proper speech come from his lips as he wrapped his arms around his lover, holding onto him with what strength remained. John's breath was ragged and he felt himself actually flutter in and out of consciousness. This beautifully insane man had finally done it; he'd managed to make John's brain break. He held Sherlock loosely, his hands seemingly unable to respond to commands and his chest heaving with the force of his breath. His eyes focused on Sherlock, just watching the aftermath of what they had done to each other. Sherlock could still feel John pulsing inside him and almost every time he did he whimpered. He was spent. Completely warn out and at risk of just falling asleep like this. Not really having the strength to speak yet, he leaned up enough to make John slip out of him. He whimpered and collapsed again down on John again. What the hell had they just done? And would they be able to do anything like that again?   

                                "You... Okay?" John finally forced out, weakly clinging to Sherlock but utterly wrecked. His head falling softly to the side as he fought the exhaustion harder and began to lose. 

                He was boneless and utterly empty of energy now. He wanted to sleep but he also wanted to prowl the flat and keep Sherlock safe. He compromised by shaking himself out of sleep enough to wait for Sherlock to give him some sort of indication of an answer. Sherlock however was already half asleep. His eyes falling closed but when he heard John's voice he opened them a bit and nodded. He had wanted to say, ‘I feel amazing because of you,’ but it wouldn't came out. All that came out was a soft sigh. He hugged John tighter hoping that it would keep him in the bed. Sherlock knew that John liked to go make sure the doors were locked but right now all he cared about was sleeping. Sleeping right there where he was on top of him, just like this. John tried to speak again, to tell Sherlock he needed to get up but something about the weight of Sherlock on him that mixture of warm and cool that embodied the form of his lover and the utter bonelessness he was left with just wiped the rest of his energy out. He conceded that Sherlock had to have locked to doors. He was supposed to before they started his punishment and reward earlier. But John wanted to check, something nagging at him to get up and do so but he simply could not move. Instead he just tightened his arms around Sherlock and let go as they both passed into a deep sleep.

 


	7. Helping the Feeble Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one besides John seems to understand Sherlock's sympathy for Victor. Why must their be a real reason for helping him? Isn't being his friend enough? He used to be a good person and Sherlock was determined he could be that person again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Chapter? So soon? Yes!

When Sherlock woke the next morning it was because there was someone banging on their bedroom door. Banging quite loudly in fact. Sherlock was still snuggled on top of John and quite comfortable. He didn't want to get up. He grunted and looked up towards the door, his curls a wild mess.

_I am going to kill him._

"GO AWAY MYCROFT!" He groaned, yelling at the top of his lungs because he knew damn well that was who it was. He also knew he'd come to complain about Victor coming to his office and asking for the money Sherlock had promised him. The knocking only continued and Sherlock whimpered hiding his face in John's neck as he hugged him close. "I'll pay you to get rid of him." He mumbled. It felt like it was early in the morning but he knew it was actually early afternoon, but he didn't care. He wanted to continue sleeping with John.

"'S all the noise?" John grunted as he woke, clearly not sure when or where he was. He ran a hand over his face before reaching out to make sure Sherlock was still within range. He smirked slightly as he realized Sherlock was still on top of him. But he grunted as light hit his eyes, opening one just a fraction of the way. "Is... Is someone... here?" His voice was thick with sleep.

"It's my fucking brother." Sherlock groaned, moving under the covers to escape from the damn light. "We're having sex! Go away!" He yelled, hoping that would make Mycroft leave but he only heard a chuckle.

"Liar." Mycroft said though it was muffled through the door. Sherlock gave a whine, not wanting to have to deal with this after so little sleep. His body was sore and he was still exhausted. He just wanted to stay curled up in their happy little bubble and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

"It's too early for this," Sherlock mumbled as he held on to John from underneath the covers, making John stay in bed. "Maybe he'll go away."

"Sherlock Holmes get out here this instant!" Mycroft growled through the door. "Greg, please make some tea." He sighed, looking over at his partner. "It's going to be a long afternoon."

"Greg's here." John grumbled, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. "I hear his footsteps." He found Sherlock and kissed him softly. "He's not going to go... Can't we just deal with him and go back to sleep?"

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft yelled, quite angry now. "I can pick this lock or take this door off." At Mycroft's yell Sherlock groaned and forced himself out of bed.

"If  _you_  weren't in bed with me I'd swear I was twenty two and back in University." He wrapped a sheet around himself and tossed John his robe before opened the door. "Sherlock Holmes isn't in. Please leave a message with Mrs. Hudson at the front desk." He ordered before moving to close the door again but of course Mycroft wouldn't actually let him close the door. "It's early!" He shouted, not caring that it actually wasn't. Mycroft looked down woefully at his now scuffed shoe, where it held the door open.

"It's the middle of the afternoon Sherlock and you have a lot of explaining to do. So before I get very angry, put some trousers on." Mycroft did something rather quickly with his hand and the door knob came off in his hand. He smirked that irritating thin smirk at Sherlock as he retreated to the living room.

"It's... Christ it's half two." John groaned as he rolled over and pulled the robe on. "I don't even know which way is up right now." He groaned as he tried to actually stand, wobbling slightly. Sherlock rushed over and helped John up.

"Careful." He whispered before kissing his cheek. "You can go take a shower if you want, I can deal with my brother." He walked into his closet and put some trousers on. When he came back in the room he saw John slipping some clothes on. Of course he wasn't going to let Sherlock do this alone, he couldn't stop the smirk that spread across his face. Ever his battle partner. "I wonder what they think about the state of the kitchen since your uniform, my clothes, and our broken table lay on the floor."

"If they didn't see it on the tapes last night, they aren't thinking ahead." John smiled and finished dressing. He would need to bring more clothes down here soon. He pushed his hair back out of his face, still groggy. "We'd better go find out what's going on." Mycroft stood in the middle of the living room his arms crossed angrily. The scene before in the kitchen him not assisting his nerves. His face was a thin line as he waited impatiently for Sherlock and John to appear.

"Can't behave like grownups for five minutes..." He muttered quietly to himself, not noticing the pair come into the living room.

"I think we were behaving like grownups, that's the part you don't like brother." Sherlock teased as he looked into the kitchen to see it still in the same state as they had left it. Greg was gingerly moving around as he made tea, carefully avoiding touching the table.

"Greg, this is what the game can cause just in case my brother didn't go home and show you himself." He said and Greg actually blushed as brought a tea try into the living room and sat it down. When Mycroft shouted at Sherlock, he only turned to grin at him. "You woke me up, Mycroft. Don't expect me to behave." He hissed as he grabbed John's hands and moved to sit with him on the couch. "Why are you here? I let Victor have that money. There isn't anything to discuss. He needs it."

"Yes, for his drug dealing." Greg pointed out.

"I don't care." Sherlock answered simply.

"Thank you for the tea, Greg." John said softly, drinking it. His mind was a bit fogged but suddenly he jumped up and went over to his medical kit. "Sorry love, we missed a dose last night. Have to give it to you now." He said filling the syringe and giving Sherlock the injection before moving back to drink his tea.

"Your antics aside Sherlock, giving Victor money is not a good idea. Why did you do it?" He paused and his mouth thinned into that damn condescending sneer. "Consequently John, where are the other drugs?" John grunted and slowly moved up the stairs to retrieve them, his mind still in a haze. While he was out of the room Mycroft spoke softly to Sherlock. "Sherlock, you are putting him in danger! Are you aware of that?"

"What?" Sherlock asked with confusion. He would never do that to John. He rubbed at his sore arm where John had gave him his injection, furrowing his brow as he looked at Mycroft. "I am not putting John in danger." He hissed quietly. "I had Victor come to you, not me. I did the right thing. I kept Victor away from me and John and along the way I managed to help Victor. I see nothing wrong here." Greg sighed and sank down into John's chair, trying to make Sherlock see reason.

"What's wrong here is that you have basically given him permission to ask for more money every time he runs out. He's going to ask you every week and you'll say yes and then one day you'll get tired of it so you won't and he'll snap. He'll come here and find you and John." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well, if I do happen to say no, John and I will take a trip somewhere." He replied simply, wondering what was taking John so long to return.

John was trying to make his brain function properly as he moved through his room upstairs. He was still rather groggy and he wondered if it was all to do with being so tired or if something bigger was at play. He leaned down to pick up the jacket off the floor and felt a head rush as he stood after pulling the drugs from one of the pockets. He leaned back against the wall and sighed taking short deep breaths. He'd eaten like he should, had been drinking plenty of water, and hadn't done anything too worrisome in the last few days, but he felt... Well not good. Maybe he was finally getting that cold bug that was going around. He would make sure he took some zinc lozenges when he had a chance. He rummaged in his wardrobe for a jumper, pants, and trousers, changing as he found them.

"Sherlock, you are being incredibly stupid. Victor will follow you, just like he followed you here after University. You're almost as addicted to him as you are to the drugs! John is human Sherlock and eventually if you keep pushing him he will break. I understand that you want to help Victor but this is not the appropriate way to go about it!" Mycroft crossed his arms.

"How am I pushing him?!" Sherlock shouted, but he bit his lip knowing he needed to be quiet, John would be hurt if he knew they were bickering over him. He glared up at his brother. "I have never done anything John couldn't handle. We're like any other couple, Mycroft. You do not have to march in here just because he and I have an active sex life." He forced himself to take a sip of some tea before he continued. "This is the healthiest I have been while I am detoxing. I am fine. John's fine."

"I'm not talking about your sex life Sherlock!" Mycroft moved over and sat down next to him, anger on his face but concern there as well, using the proximity to make Sherlock give him his full attention. "What possible use can talking to Victor have for you? Victor will not stop until he claims you and that means he will not stop until John is out of the way! He could be hurt!"

John finally pulled the jumper on the robe over his arm as he slowly made his way back downstairs. Greg and Mycroft both watched him with clear concern as he shuffled into the room towards Mycroft. He dropped the drugs in Mycroft's hand before moving into the bathroom and running water to splash over his face. Sherlock watched John leave with concern, noting he was paler than he'd been last night, almost as if he was ill. He tried to stand and go check on him when Mycroft forced him to sit back down. Sherlock snapped at Mycroft, his voice still low.

"I am helping him!" He hissed at Mycroft. "Victor was my friend once and I am sick and tired of trying to pretend that he never was. If I help him, he may come around." He pulled away from Mycroft to storm off to the bathroom to check on John. "John?" He whispered as he entered the room. The door was open and John sat on the edge of the tub, his face in his hands. "Darling, you look ill what's wrong?" He asked as crouched down next to him.

"I'm alright, love." John blushed as he looked up at Sherlock. "I didn't mean to worry you, I just think that whatever is going around has finally caught up with me. I'll get some breakfast in me and we'll go back to sleep. It'll be okay." He leaned against Sherlock in a hug. "Are you alright, you seem upset. Mycroft getting to you?" John's words were slow and it deepened Sherlock's concern for him. His reactions and body language betrayed that he was ill.

"Is he really that thick?" Mycroft turned to Greg. "Did you bring in the grocery bags? John looks pretty ill I don't know that his adaptation to my brother's sleeping and eating habits has been good for him."

"Yes, I put all the groceries away...no thanks to you." Greg teased and he frowned at the mention of John. "You don't think Sherlock's letting him sleep or eat?" He asked and he was sure that was something Sherlock would never do intentionally."

"I don't mean it like that. John is very adaptable. If Sherlock requires his constant attention that's what he gets, without respect to himself. Sherlock doesn't want to injure or hurt John. He is simply impulsive." Mycroft put his fingers in front of his chin and sat forward on the couch, contemplating what would be best to do.

Sherlock just nodded as John promised him they would go back to bed and he would be okay. Allowing himself to relax just a bit because he knew they were alone for the moment. He pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes for a moment.

"He thinks I'm putting you in danger by giving Victor money." He said sadly because he honestly feared Mycroft could be right. "I should have considered that before I did what I did, John."

"Hey danger is what we do." John smiled and leaned against Sherlock. Sherlock felt warm and that felt nice. "Come on, I should finish that tea and eat something. You should too but I got two meals in you in one day so I won't push."  
"I'll eat something later," Sherlock assured him. The injection had put him off wanting food. "But you eat, I'll deal with my brother. And as soon as we get rid of them we'll set up our fort again and go to sleep." He kissed John's lips briefly and then pulled away. "Back into the lion's den I go," He hummed before walking back into the living room and sitting next to Mycroft.

"Are you alright, John?" Greg asked with concern and when John nodded and headed off to the kitchen he relaxed a bit.

"If you're about to tell me that I need to take better care of my partner, fine. I see your point he hasn't been eating or sleeping as much as he should be. But as soon as you two leave, we plan to fix that." Sherlock sighed.

"It's not just about that Sherlock, you can't give all your money to Victor." Mycroft sighed and sank down in Sherlock's chair.

John became distracted when he went into the kitchen, his mind moving about without any input from himself. First he collected their clothes and folded them neatly to be taken in the bedroom, then he was suddenly surveying the table to see if it was possible for him to fix it. He completely forgot about getting food as he propped the table up and surveyed the area where the leg snapped off. His mind was too busy thinking over too much for him to focus on himself in that moment. He started digging around in one of the cabinets for the toolbox, making quite a bit of noise as he did. Mycroft and Greg both looked concerned.

"What is he doing?" Mycroft asked his brother quietly as Sherlock strained to look.

"He's supposed to be cooking himself lunch." Sherlock mumbled as he stood and stepped in the kitchen. He found John on the ground tool box beside him, trying to fix the leg of the table. "That could have waited until later, John." He teased crouching down to look at the leg of the table. "But your right, it is fixable." He was surprised when John barely made a grunting noise at him. He sighed and furrowed his brow. "I'll make you some toast be sure to eat when it pops up." He ordered before walking over to the toaster and putting two pieces of bread in. John had been somewhat confused when Sherlock came in and then sighed setting the tools down. Right, eating was important. He put the kettle on and stood there staring at it as he did. His mind racing over the last few days in quick succession. Sherlock had agreed to give Victor some money, would that mean he would come back asking for more? Was Sherlock actually in danger from him? Would that man really try to make Sherlock relapse just to keep a client or was there something deeper at work here? Sherlock walked back into living room to sit next to his brother with a sigh, "He's just trying to fix the table we broke." Greg looked at him curiously and hesitated before asking.

"I know  _what_  you two did to break the table but  _how_  did it break?" Sherlock looked over at Greg and smiled.

"Leg broke while I was on it." He watched Mycroft blush and he grinned. But as a show of faith he turned the conversation back to the situation at hand. "Brother haven't you ever heard of killing people with kindness? Maybe by being kind to Victor we'll make all this stop."

"Being kind to Victor has never done any good in the past, brother." Mycroft put his fingers in front of his chin and leaned forward slightly. John was still messing with the table and Mycroft could see him clearly from where he sat. "He distracted to the point of annoyance." He whispered first with a smirked, which faded quickly as he seemed to deduce something different about John.

The toast popped but John didn't seem to come aware of it immediately. Mycroft stood and swept into the kitchen.

"John, what is going on?" He demanded and John started slightly.

"Jesus Mycroft, can't you let a man be lost in thought?"

"Not when his breakfast is getting cold." Mycroft tensed his jaw, this mouth thinning. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" He exclaimed slamming around as he made himself tea, shouting loud enough Greg and Sherlock could hear him. Sherlock flinched. "It's just been awhile since I have run on this little sleep. I'm fine, really. I'm fine!" He slammed a mug down on the counter and it broke. Mycroft smirked somewhat triumphantly.

"John, Greg and I care very much about what happens to you two. If you are worried about something you can talk to us."

"I am fine." John grit his teeth. "My system is run down and I need to rest. Thank you for your concern and for buying groceries." And with that he busied himself making the toast. He made the toast how Sherlock liked it and moved to sit in the living room near him hoping the detective might be tempted to take some.

"Can you please stop harassing John." Sherlock said and it was meant to be a question but instead it came out more as a commanded. "He's fine and even if he's not, I'll take care of him. Not you. Not Greg. Me." He wrapped an arm around John and held him close while he ate. "What I'm about to say to you is something I am completely serious about and if you call it childish I will kick you out of this flat, Mycroft." Sherlock warned through gritted teeth. "Now you may not care about Victor's well being but I do. He was my friend and I refuse to let my friend to continue on this path..." Sherlock took a deep breathing, knowing this would be the part Mycroft would hate, "I want to help him get clean."

"Sherlock, are you serious?" Mycroft asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes flicked to John with a sort of desperate, a look of - Sherlock you idiot, look at that man.

"He is serious, we talked about it. I can help." John said softly, he'd only eaten a few bites of his toast before he set it down. John's hands were shaking though he seemed unaware of it.

"John, you are already at the limits of what you can do with Sherlock. I don't think you understand what..."

"I think I do understand!" John raged, shaking slightly. "If Sherlock wants to give the guy a chance then he deserves one. Just because you think all addicts never get clean doesn't make it true Mycroft!" John's anger diminished some when Mycroft turned to look at him.

"Ah, so that's it then. You're having a panic attack." He announced coolly, his hands still in front of his chin. "I see..." He mused. "So you two think you'll be just fine without help."

"Nothing like that. We need help but we also need freedom." John snapped, ignoring the comment about the panic attack. But the thought wormed its' way into his mind and he felt himself sink back into his body and it was true. He had been having a panic attack but his mind and body had been split on it until just now. He trembled a bit harder and tried to hide it as he reached for his tea.

_Fear is not my thing, I'm better than this..._

Sherlock study John for a long moment. He was having a panic attack. Oh Christ he really was and he was trying to stop it. He held John a bit tighter.

"I can get your tea, Love. Just relax." He whispered in his ear reassuringly as he rubbed his back in soothing circles. He was ignoring Greg and Mycroft's presence all together at this point because he was so utterly focused on John. He brought the cup to John's lips and let him take a few sips before sitting the cub down. "See? You're fine. Don't let him scare you." Sherlock whispered as he started to run his fingers through John's hair. "You're okay," He kissed his cheek a few times, trying to keep his lover here instead of going in to a serve panic attack. This wasn't happening. John was not falling apart. He took a long, slow breath focusing on the floor in front of him. He was fine. There wasn't anything to... The image of Sherlock's face when he'd asked John to leave the flat so he could meet with Victor flashed in his mind and he shuddered. He closed his eyes tight, focusing on his breathing. Five counts in, five counts out.

"I'm fine love," John finally said in a soft voice. "Thank you." He wasn't really fine but he was not going to let himself go to pieces in front of Mycroft and Greg.  
"Sherlock, he is dangerous. You two don't have enough protection here to help him. We could send him to a clinic if you are so determined but I don't think you two inviting him in and trying to cure him on your own, in the midst of your own relapse is healthy." Mycroft spoke softly, his face tense.  
"Just shut up about it right now, Mycroft." Sherlock argued in the same soft stone. He didn't want to give John more reason to be stressed. As much as he wanted to shout and argue, he wouldn't. Not with John so close to having a break down. "I really don't think right now is the best time to discuss it." He continued to stroke John's back trying his best to keep him at ease until the pair were gone. "If you would like, we can discuss this later, but I really must ask you to go right now."

"I'm trying to help." Mycroft said sternly.  
"Well you're doing a shit job." John forced out, gripping Sherlock's hand tightly. "Let us have a little time. Come back tomorrow morning and we will talk about this like adults okay?" John pleaded. Mycroft crossed his arms, he wanted to solve this now. But a look from Greg made him think better of it.  
"We will be here at nine sharp." He stood. "Do you need anything?" John didn't answer, his eyes closed tightly and his focus on counting his breaths again.

"Yes, they need us to leave." Greg said gently as he stood. "Feel better soon, John." He said as took Mycroft by the arm lead him out the door.

"You'll be okay, John." Sherlock whispered as he continued to run his fingers through John's hair. He didn't know how to deal with this, he'd never dealt with a panic attack before. He knew that John had been through them before but he'd always kept them from Sherlock. Sherlock had been through them himself but he'd never been with someone going through one. He had no idea what to do to help John through it. "They're gone now, just try to breathe." John was shaking harder now.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was having an attack. I'm fine." He felt stupid. He shook harder. "I don't know what caused it... Or how long it's been going on. I was disconnected from my body..."

"You don't have to be sorry, John." Sherlock whispered taking John into his arms and kissing his temple. "You're safe now, you know that? Everything is fine. Sometimes they're isn't a good reason for having a panic attack. " Sherlock felt the top of his head and saw that he was beginning to get a fever. "Want me to go get a cold wash cloth? Your face and neck are starting to feel pretty warm." "Don't worry, I will be okay." John said softly and stood, pacing a bit. "I'm scared." He laughed. "I'm scared of losing you." He needed to move but he kept putting his hand on Sherlock as he passed. "Scared I will wake up and find this has all been a dream. That..." It hit him hard and he grunted.

_Oh... That was it wasn't it._

"That I made this up." He shook hard and sank down. "When I thought you were... Dead..." He couldn't stand. "I made up so many things because I wanted you back. Now I'm scared another mad man with power over your mind will take you away. But I'll be stronger. I will." Sherlock knelt on the ground beside John. This was his fault. All of it. Those three years had left an impression on John's mind. An impression Sherlock had not expected. He hadn't known how strongly John felt for him, he wished he had. It would have made things... Not easier no, but different. He grabbed John's face in his hands and gazed in his eyes.

"I'm here." He promised giving John a soft smile as he pressed their foreheads together. "I'm right here," He repeated as he grabbed John's hand and placed it over his chest so he could feel his heart beat. "You have nothing to be afraid of, John. I am right here. I'm not going to go anywhere. I'm going to stay with you until you get sick of me." He promised, holding John tightly.

"I'll never get rid of you." John whispered softly, meeting his eyes. "I want you here always. I want to wake up next to you every morning, go to sleep next to you each night." He clenched his hand over Sherlock's heart. "I've tried to be okay about this. I'm sorry I'm falling apart. This isn't what you need..." John tried again to shove his emotion away but Sherlock wasn't having it.

"Stop." He ordered his voice was firm but he spoke softly. He wrapped his arms around John's waist and held him close. "Stop worrying about me right this instant John Watson. I'm fine." He insisted and right now he really was. The whole of his mind was focused on John. "It's okay to be like this because I'm here to take care of you." John looked up at Sherlock a bit confused, he hadn't expected Sherlock to volunteer to care for him like this. His words died in his throat and he just watched him for a long time before he finally spoke.

"I always worry about you." He said softly. "I have to because any minute something can happen that might take you away. Because you don't worry about yourself the way you should." He said it as firmly as he could, pain showing in his eyes. A deep breath in...

_One...two...three..._

He forced his breath to be even. Five counts in, five counts out. Everything was okay. Sherlock was safe, it would be alright.

_Pull it together Watson!_

"John, I feel the same way about you. I worry about you constantly but right now you really need focus on yourself." Sherlock whispered.

"I'm not important right now, you are. Getting you better is what is important to me." Sherlock sighed as he said that and kissed John's lips softly. He pulled away and smiled at him softly.

"Nothing is going to take me away. I'm sitting here with you. In  _our flat_. The door is locked and my brother and Greg are the only ones with keys. We're safe. It's okay to worry about yourself for once." He rubbed his nose with John's.

"I'm okay." He said softly, now not sure if he was trying to convince himself or Sherlock it was true. He looked away though, his body shivering slightly. This was all wrong, he couldn't be sick or panicky now. He had to be strong, to protect Sherlock from himself, from Victor, from the world. "It was just a panic attack." He forced out his body slowly stopping trembling. "You're right we're safe." The truth was he didn't know how to focus on himself, he'd forgotten. It felt like drowning. That's why he needed Sherlock because it gave him something to focus on. Someone who was worth all the effort. So as the panic attack slowly wore off he didn't see the very clear signs he would never have never missed in another. The signs that screamed he was actually sick. "I just must be too tired. After that case last week and then work and this, I'm just worn out. I'll be alright Sherlock. Thank you, love." Sherlock was glad that John had stopped shaking but it was obvious that John was still stick. But for how long? How long had this been going on without him noticing? How long was John going to pretend it wasn't going on now?

"Come on, we're getting you in the shower and then we're going to go lay down." He helped John stand and then he lead him to the bathroom despite John's protest. "I'm sorry, John. This is my fault. You were so focused on me,  _again_ , that I didn't notice that you were forgetting to take care of yourself. I won't let this happen again."

"Sherlock," John protested as he followed. "I'm alright, it was just a panic attack. Really." He didn't like all this fuss over him, he was fine. It was nothing a little rest wouldn't fix. "We have other problems to worry about. I'll be fine." He looked a bit upset. "It's not your fault, I'm fine! I take care of myself as much as I need to." Sherlock looked at John with a bit of a frown. He stepped closer and ran a hand through his hair.

"Just a panic attack? You say that as if it's nothing. You've never had one like this before, at least not while I was with you." He turned on the shower and slipped off the shirt he had on. "You must hear yourself." Sherlock was almost pleading and it made John pause. "Please take care of yourself as much you need to? John, tell me, when is the last time we have done something or you personally did something for yourself? Because all I can recall is you doing things for me and remembering later you should do something for yourself too. This morning for example you sat down with me and before you thought about making yourself breakfast you worried about my injection. That's not healthy." Sherlock was irritated by how incredibly stupid John was being.

"I'm a doctor and I'm taking care of you. I should be more careful about not missing doses for you. It's what any doctor would do." He furrowed his brow, he wasn't playing stupid he was actually confused. "I ate yesterday remember? I even cooked lunch. We slept late and were woken by Mycroft so rudely and it sort of threw me off my normal routine but I ate the toast and had some tea. I eat at least twice a day every day. I..." He looked down, his jaw tightening. "You're more important than I am. You're brilliant and amazing. I'm just, me." He said softly, shrugging slightly.

"John, if that is honestly what you think about yourself, I am not being a good... Partner. Well a good anything really." Sherlock whispered. Maybe this was proof he shouldn't be with John. But he didn't care, even if it was he would ignore the proof because he was selfish and he wanted John all to himself. Maybe this problem was fixable, it sounded like it was purely psychological. He wrapped his arms around John and gazed into his eyes. "Before we were together like this, before I left... Every morning you would get up, shower, make breakfast for yourself, and go to work. You'd eat lunch there. And when you came home you'd make dinner or I'd order take away for us." He could see the look on John's face that said 'So?' "My point is that you used to do things for yourself. I used to do things for myself. Now... Since we started to cross into this territory of becoming a couple it's almost as if we move in unison. I move, you move. I shower, you shower. I eat, you eat. We've became one person and I'm worried that it's not healthy." John actually smiled.

"That happened long before we became a couple, Sherlock." He sighed. "I've moved with you more than I've done anything for myself. I... I don't think about me. I don't know how anymore, because..." He paused, looking down. "I don't see anything worth thinking about. If I can make you happy, if I can see you safe and well - then I've done something to be proud of. It's only been the last few days things have gotten a little out of hand and we've had a lot of extenuating circumstances to deal with." He sighed and he looked down stepping out of his clothes. "You're the only one who sees any worth in me. That's the only reason I take care of myself at all." Sherlock frowned, he hadn't noticed that they had been doing that for a while. If he had he would have done something about that. Maybe it was because he had such little experience with real relationships but he feared that sort of thing wasn't healthy, for the either of them.

"That... I don't like that. You should want to take care of yourself because that's what people are supposed to want to do." Sherlock argued sounding unsure and nervous. He had never dealt with something like this before. With Victor before drugs became a part of their relationship they did everything independently. Victor would take care of himself, Sherlock would take of himself, and occasionally they would get together and do normal couple things. "I.. John, I'm sorry if I seem like an idiot right now but I've never been an a situation like this before." He wasn't exactly sure how he got in the shower but now he was here, standing with John's arms around him.

"We aren't like other couples, Sherlock." John said it softly, the water melting away some of his tension. "We solve murders and hunt down criminals, we find danger and charge into it head first instead of running away. Neither of us know what the hell we're doing. You're right that I should  _want_ to take care of myself because I find value in myself, but I haven't in a long time. I mean, I'm just an old wounded soldier Sherlock. I'm not brilliant like you, or politically minded like your brother, or even a decent detective like Greg. I'm just some doctor whose there. People have come after me because of you, because they want to hurt you and it makes me worried sick. So yea, I've probably developed this idea that you're worth more than me." He sighed and looked down at his hands. "I'm not interesting or exciting, I'm not especially smart or strong. I'm fairly average in every way. But I want you to be happy and I can't very well ensure that you're happy if I'm sick can I?" Sherlock hated this. Hated that John thought so lowly of himself. Sherlock thought so highly of him he was his light and his world. Why couldn't he see his value? Is this something John had started thinking when he left? Was everything his stupid fault? He searched John's eyes trying to find the truth, to see the moment this all came from. To prove whether or not it was really another thing he'd ruined for this amazing man.

"I'm not happy." Sherlock mumbled but it was the truth. "I can't be happy. Not if you don't think you're worth anything. John, you're the most amazing, beautiful, and kind man I have ever met. You're a damn good doctor and I don't know many soldiers but even if I did I would say you were the most loyal. You're important John. To me. And... I really wished you thought the same way." Sherlock looked down, uncomfortable with the sentiment pooling in his stomach.

"It's hard to see it that way when you've lain in a pool of your own blood on a battlefield and seen better men than you fall to darkness." John whispered, clenching his fist slightly. Admitting something so close to his heart that he couldn't be sure he'd told another human being that secret. Sherlock's eyes slowly raised back up to his, meeting them and locking with them. "When you've watched your sister stumble and fall over and over again because she refuses to accept your help or worse when you watched the man you love trapped in such a hopeless position that he..." He coughed, hiding a sob. Sherlock's heart fluttered painfully in his chest. "I'm realizing I'm important to you, love. But it's not something that's going to just change overnight in my head. I don't know how to worry about myself. When I use to do it, it was only to distract myself from my feelings for you. I'm trying, I am." Sherlock closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around John hugging him tightly as possible. This was his fault. All of it. If he had never left, John would have never started to think this way about himself. If he had just stayed, he could have let John know how important he was.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I should have...I should have been here to remind you how remarkable you are."

"Love, listen to me. This started a long time before you," John let his arms wrap around Sherlock. "It got a bit better when you were here and yea I won't lie and say it wasn't a kick in the ego when I thought you'd made me watch you commit suicide, but... I just don't see anything great about myself. Just like you expected me to call you a freak like everyone else did. I'm sorry, please don't get upset. It's not your fault."

"But..." Sherlock tried to figured out how to argue because he honestly felt like this was his fault. "I want you to know how wonderful you are. That's all." He kissed John as hard as he could, gently pushing him into the wall and letting his passion take him over. He had to know. Sherlock felt like he was doing something wrong if he didn't let John know how fantastic he was. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to change your mind, John Watson." He murmured between kisses. "I'll remind you how amazing you are everyday until it sticks in your head." He started to kiss down John's neck. "And even after that I'll remind you so you never forget." John groaned softly, digging his nails into Sherlock's shoulders as he worked.

"God," He whispered, his head falling back against the wall as he moaned louder. "Every day is a new day. I won't always be like this. I promise." He shivered slightly. "I don't want you to get sick if I have something." He whispered trying to be logical and rational though his body was already quite pleased with the progression of the moment.

"Shh." Sherlock whispered as he continued to ravish his neck with kisses. "Stop thinking." He said with a smile against his skin. "Let me be your doctor for today, alright? Let me take care of you." He eased the kisses a bit, turned them into softer ones because he knew John was right. This needed to stop distracting them. He needed to take care of John. Properly. John groaned again, his eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitched in his chest. Sherlock's brain shorted out.

"Your kisses are the most powerful aphrodisiac I think I have ever encountered." He smirked, just letting go and allowing the water and Sherlock help relax him. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I don't feel right, I don't know what's wrong but I know I'm not right. I'll let you be doctor, just this once."

"Thank you." Sherlock said with a smile and he finally forced himself to stop kissing John. "Okay, let's get you washed up first." Sherlock hummed, mostly to distract himself from all the indecent thoughts swimming through his brain. He gave John one last kiss on the cheek before grabbing some shampoo and pouring it on top of John's head with a smile. "Maybe you're just coming down with a cold," He said hoping that was as far as this sickness went. He started to scrub John's hair with his fingers massaging his scalp.

"It's possible. After running around in the rain last week and not being able to stay still long enough to get dry it could be." John sighed softly and closed his eyes again, just letting Sherlock move him and do whatever it was he was going to do. "I had to get the flu shot for work, so I hope that's not it..." He was mumbling in between his sentences but the words dropped out because he was so comfortable with Sherlock's touch. "I love you." Sherlock gave a chuckle and nodded.

"I love you too." He hummed as he watched John react to his touch. He was so relaxed and that made Sherlock relax. "Maybe it's nothing, maybe you're just stressed. You could need some more rest, that's all." He said hopefully as he rinsed the shampoo out of John's hair. He stated to wash his body off smiling at him whenever he caught John looking. "Don't look at me like that, I'm going to behave today. No sex." He said firmly. Christ, he hoped that was easy to do as it was easy to say.

"Well that's not much fun, is it?" John teased, just humming in contentment as Sherlock worked. He let one hand absentmindedly find Sherlock's hair and gently massage his scalp. "I love when you touch me." He whispered, blushing slightly as he confessed it. "Any touch you give me makes me feel happy." Sherlock let out a sigh, as he felt John's hand in his hair.

"You're distracting me." He told John with a chuckle. "But I am glad you feel that way, I feel exactly the same way. Which is why you're distracting me. No matter. I'm done now. Let's get you dressed." He helped John get out of the shower and handed him a towel.

"Dressed?" John grinned. He dried off and hung the towel up. "Didn't you say something about rebuilding our fort? I don't remember taking it down, I wonder if Mrs. Hudson did." John mumbled, fishing around for his clothes.

"I actually think that was our 'caretakers.'" Sherlock said meaning Mycroft and Greg. "Wasn't really anywhere to sit with that thing in the way," He chuckled. Sherlock hated getting dressed but he knew he should, so he settled for just putting on some pajama bottoms. Yes, that would be good enough. "Are you sure you want to rebuild it? We can just lay down in the bed if you're too tired." Sherlock offered.

"You were so happy in it." John whispered pulling Sherlock to him and kissing him softly. "It was comfortable. I'd like to rebuild it." He didn't really want to get dressed, but he also didn't feel like going up the stairs to get anything else to wear. So he slipped his pants back on leaving the trousers where they lay and pulled the bathrobe around himself. He followed Sherlock into the living room, watching as he gathered up all the blankets and sheets.

"No. You sit. I'll rebuild." Sherlock insisted with a smile as he took John's hand and lead him to the couch. "Sit down, Dr. Watson. Dr. Holmes is in charge of fort building today." He laughed as he gently pushed him onto the couch. "I'm sure I can do it by myself." He assured the other as he began to recreate their large fort, quietly humming to himself without even knowing he was doing it.

John chuckled softly and just watched Sherlock with adoration as he worked. He looked so innocent and beautiful. He reclined a bit against the couch, closing his eyes briefly to catalog is own feelings. He was exhausted, a little sore from their activities, and yea - feverish. It wasn't too much of a fever likely only a degree or so higher than normal but it was there. Could be from exhaustion, he sure hoped so. His eyes followed Sherlock as he moved keeping him well within his sight as he easily rested. He wasn't used to this and it made him itch but he tried his best to let Sherlock be in control. Sherlock had accidentally managed to get himself overly excited to finish the fort, so, while rushing about the fort he actually fell inside it with a loud thumb followed by a fit of laughter.

"I'm okay." He assured John as he crawled out of the fort. "Tripped over some pillows." He confessed as he stood. "Do you need anything?" He walked over to John and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "Water? Medicine? Anything I can get you?"

"Did you hurt yourself?" John asked automatically before looking down and blushing slightly. "Some water would be nice. But that's all I need." He said it quietly, wringing his hands slightly. He felt contrary. "It's different to hear you hum like that. I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"Hum?" Sherlock asked with a pause. He ran through a quick catalogue of his recent actions and could not recall humming as part of them. "I didn't even know I was doing it." He shrugged before he left the room to go fetch a bottle of water. He came back and handed it to John. "Was I really humming? Usually I'm aware of everything I do."

"You were humming, it was pleasantly adorable." John smirked using the word because he knew Sherlock didn't think it applied to him. He got up and pulled Sherlock to him kissing him softly. "Thank you for doing this." Sherlock pouted at that word.

"I'm not adorable," He argued practically speaking the words while John kissed him. He softened a bit at the thank you and honestly blushed just a bit. "You're welcome."

"You're adorable to me." John smiled and crawled inside the fort. "We'd better get our phones just in case. Want to grab them love?"

"Not adorable." Sherlock argued and went to grab the phones. He gave a sigh of annoyance once he saw a text from Victor. He was glad he had helped him, but right now was really not the time.

_I just wanted to thank you for the money again...thanks. VT_

Sherlock knew he should reply but he had John to take care of and this time he intended to do it properly. So he ignored it. He grabbed John's phone and went back into the living room.

"John, I'm not adorable. I'm pirate." He joked as he crawled into the fort and handed John his phone. "You have a text." He added, grinning because he knew it was from himself.

_I'm not adorable. SH_

John chuckled and pulled Sherlock to him, kissing him softly.

"A pirate huhn? Mycroft mentioned that once." He stretched out, the bathrobe falling open as he did. "So you've got me under your care alone in a blanket fort in the living room. What now?" He teased, cuddling against the detective. Sherlock relaxed completely in John's arms smiling up at him.

"Nothing. I'm going to behave." He said but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than actually claiming it would happen to John. "You're sick. It'd be selfish if I took advantage of you in your weakened state." He teased.

"Hm... I don't believe you." John grinned and kissed Sherlock again, moaning loudly into the kiss. "What if I can't sleep?"

"If you can't sleep I'll sedate you." Sherlock said in between kisses. He really wouldn't but he was still trying to stay strong. Trying to keep control of his body, which was spiraling dangerously close to out of his control. "John, do you not remember what we did last night?" He asked with a faint smile. "We had sex to the point of exhaustion. I'm still sort of sore." He chuckled.

"Yes I remember." He grinned. "That's why we slept so late." He stretched a bit and closed his eyes, trying to let Sherlock decide what was best. "So what are my doctors' orders?"

Sherlock gave a sigh. No. He should be thinking logically but it was so hard to think logically with John laying there with his robe open.

"Your orders are to let your doctor do a quick check up," He said finally giving in as he moved to straddle Johns' hips. "Okay, what do they normally do for a checkup?" He asked himself trying to think of something to do. "Help me, John." He finally giggled because he couldn't think of anything besides a prostate exam and if he started there the fun would end much too soon. John groaned and smirked.  
"Well first you will need to check my vital signs. My pulse, temperature, breathing, etc. Then I think I need a thorough examination to be sure I don't have any cuts, bruises, or scrapes anywhere. You may have to check my reflexes too."

"Okay," Sherlock said with a eager smile as he grabbed John's hand, his fingers placed carefully over his pulse. "Let's check your pulse first." He whispered before he started to kiss John softly. "Oh, it's rather rapid, John." He murmured against his lips. "I wonder why, it's not like your doctor is doing anything to excite you." He teased.

"You're touching me. That always elevates my pulse. But you're also on top of me." John chuckled again. "So handsome and so very beautiful..." He murmured as he watched Sherlock. Sherlock felt his cheeks warm at the sweet words and he looked away feeling just a tad shy.

"Hush now. The doctor's working." He whispered with a grin before kissing John once more. He slid a hand up to John's head feeling his temperature. "Oh, John. You're a bit warm," He whispered and he actually did sound a concerned. He pulled away, trying to be serious now. "I'm serious, you feel like you may have a real fever."

"My kits still here in the living room, in the top is an oral thermometer." He motioned, not entirely thrilled to hear that he might have a fever. "Damn it, if I have the flu after getting the flu shot..."

"I'm sure it's just a cold or something. It can't be the flu." Sherlock said trying to be hopeful as he climbed out of the fort to grab the kit. He could have just grabbed the thermometer but he feared they could need the kit again, so he grabbed the whole thing. He crawled back in, smiling at John. "Doctor Holmes is in." He giggled and then he looked around the fort with a fond smile. "I feel like I'm six years old." He said as he climbed on top of John and stuck the thermometer in his mouth. When the thermometer beeped and Sherlock removed it John laughed.  
"Sometimes I think you are six years old." He teased. "No its very possible I have the flu. The shot is only made for one strand and there have been at least three different ones at the clinic." He sighed. "I guess we're both going to be on house arrest for awhile. How bad is it?" Sherlock bit his lip, not really wanting to tell John how bad it was. He was coming down with the flu which meant his symptoms were going to get worse. Right now it was only a high fever but it would most likely get worse. Sherlock sighed and showed John the thermometer.

"Thirty nine." He said sadly. "I'm afraid you are getting the flu, if you were just catching a cold the fever would be mild."

_Christ..._

"Well, that's lovely." John sighed but he couldn't do anything but laugh. It took a good five minutes for him to stop. "Figures I would go and get sick now." He let his hand reach up and cradle Sherlock's cheek. "I'll be alright but we will have to keep a careful eye on you. Your immune system is down. I've got some medicine in the bathroom I can take if I get to feeling any worse." He sighed. "I guess we know why you felt like I was on fire yesterday morning." While John was laughing Sherlock stared down at him with a puzzled expression. Maybe the fever was causing him to hallucinate? Sherlock wasn't sure because he couldn't see why John would be laughing. Having the flu wasn't funny at all. Especially having it now.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, but even if I'm not, detoxing is like having the flu from hell, so having the actual flu would be easy for me." He assured his lover not being able to stop himself from leaning into this touch. "Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?" He asked as he held up four fingers, he was still considering that because of all the laughing John had been doing, his brain was not functioning properly.

"Four. My brain's not addled Sherlock." He grinned and pulled Sherlock down for a soft kiss. "I'm laughing because this is just us, so bloody us. Both of us scrambling around in the dark trying to help the other without a clue what in the bloody hell we're doing. Because I'm falling apart ignoring that I'm sick trying to take care of you and now you're going to try to pretend you're better than you are so you can take care of me and it's just... Us." He smiled and stroked his thumb over his cheek, staring into Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock couldn't help but smile at John. It was really  _them_. Typical them. And something like this wasn't knew, they had always done this. From the beginning they had always gone through extremes to make sure the other was okay. For example, after the incident where Moriarty strapped a bomb to John... Sherlock took him home and would not stop hovering over him, trying to care of him despite the fact that he himself was shaking with fear because he had almost lost John.

"We're...mad." He said with a chuckle. "Utterly insane for ignoring our own well being like that." He brushed his lips over John's again, not caring that he could very well get sick. "But we've always done that."

"We are mad. Utterly crazy." John grinned and held Sherlock to him. "I promise to try to be better about this." He whispered. Feeling a bit of the body aches that he'd been ignoring. "I swear, but you'd better promise me too."

"Yes, of course." Sherlock said quickly and he nodded. He would try. He could give John his word. He would try to be honest if he started to feel worse. But if John got any worse it was going to be hard to pay attention to his own needs at all. He looked at his phone when it gave another buzz, he knew who it was from. Victor. He sighed and looked at John. "Do you think I did the right thing? Giving him money. Did I make the right decision?"

"We can only try." He whispered. "Check it, see what he said. I don't know what the right answer is Sherlock, but if you feel like you want to help him then we should try. He is your friend. It's what friends do." Sherlock grabbed the phone and read over the message.

_Look, I know I am being a complete ass for even asking. But do you think you could maybe pay me once every week? I shouldn't even being asking but...you're money keeps me from having to stay with this prick who wants to shag me. I know you don't want the drugs anymore, but maybe I can do something else for you? ;) VT_

Sherlock stared at the screen with confusion, his face screwing up a bit because that message really made no sense to him.

"What the hell does this mean?" He asked, showing the message to John. "Why is he winking?"

"Christ..." John groaned and leaned his head back. "First off he's asking you to give him money every week, second off he's saying he'll give you sexual favors in return for it." He sighed a whole host of emotions going through his steadily more aching body. "He's painted you in a corner emotionally. Give me money or I have to stay with this jerk who wants to do to me what I did to you or let me come stay with you, I'll give you my body and you can let me do whatever I want and give me money every week." He ran his hand over his face, his body tensing but he was clearly trying to relax it.

_He's an addict Watson, he doesn't think normally. He's an addict who cared about Sherlock... Shit that's worse isn't it... Focus Watson!_

"He's trying to tie up your emotions." Sherlock's eyes went wide and he looked down at his phone. Really? Victor was that desperate for money? Sherlock felt his cheeks warm, partly because of embarrassment but mostly because he hated that John now knew he was friends with someone who behaved this way.

"I... Well fuck he's managed to do it." Sherlock hissed. Of course he wasn't going to let Victor come stay with him. He wasn't insane. But he also didn't want Victor staying with some addict or dealer who would abuse him. He ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell do I tell him? He's not staying here. I'm not going to let him stay here and so that... But I don't want him staying with some dealer pervert either." Sherlock crawled off John and gave a huff.

_Why does Victor have to make things so complicated?_

He started to text him back, on a whim, he wasn't thinking again but he had to make one thing clear.

_I do not want your sexual favors, Victor. I have a partner that I am very happy with. SH_

_...He can join in too if he wants, I really don't care. I just need the money and a place to stay. VT_

"Jesus Christ, he needs help if he is this fucking desperate, look at this." He handed the phone to John. John turned about five shades of red and coughed slightly.

"Well..." He took a deep breath and sat up, forcing his illness addled brain into submission. "Well, we..." John thought for a moment and he realized that Sherlock did want Victor to come stay there, because he knew at Baker Street Victor would be safe. He couldn't believe his own mind went there but he took a deep breath and prepared himself to just give in to the inevitable.

_I think I've lost my mind..._

"Well I suppose we do have two rooms and we could try to get him off the drugs..." He looked mildly confused at the words coming out of his own mouth, but he spoke them firmly. His phone buzzed and he knew it was Mycroft, he didn't even look. "If you want." He forced out, meeting Sherlock's eyes, it was a completely insane idea - one of the worst he'd had in weeks. But if Victor was someone who could affect Sherlock like this then John would do everything he could to be sure that Sherlock was able to be happy and help him. Sherlock looked confused and John couldn't tell if it was because he didn't expect John to offer or he didn't understand what John was offering. "Erm," He sighed and stood. "What I'm trying to say is that I know he's really important to you, a friend and I know that you want to help him get clean. So if you think he would even try to get clean then I... God love you, I'll help you. But if he's going to stay on the drugs you can't help him Sherlock because it'll just pull you right back in..." Sherlock knew how hard it was for John to say that. He knew how Victor affected John as well but still John was willing to let him come stay at Baker Street. To become Victor's doctor and help him with the medications and withdrawals just like he was... Well not just like he was helping Sherlock. Yes, it was possibly the worst idea either of them have ever had but he didn't care. He was utterly overwhelmed by the kindness of John Watson. Sherlock leaned over and kissed him gently, his hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

"I love you...so much, John. I'm going to make him an offer... If he won't accept my... Our help, I'm blocking his number." He promised.

_Victor. No. That's not what I want. I don't want you to do me or John sexual favors...if you truly need the money. You can have it. You can stay here as well but there are going to be conditions. SH_

_What sort of conditions? VT_

_You don't do drugs while you live here, as long as you stay clean, you'll get the money. No partying, no calling any of your clients or dealers. If you want a place to stay, you're getting clean. SH_

_Are you trying to kill me? Sherlock, I rely on this stuff too much, there is no getting clean. VT_

_You're going to try. You'll stay in the room upstairs. John will help you with detoxing, you'll get a proper job, and start going to some sort of rehabilitation at least three days a week. SH_

_No. VT_

_Fine. I'm deleting your number and blocking it. If you won't accept my help, I don't want to be in contact with you. SH_

_...I can't do it, Sherlock. I'd love to. I really would. This is not the life I picture having for myself. I was supposed to be CEO of my father's company by now. VT_

_You still can be. You just have to get your act together. SH_

_He hates me. I haven't spoken to him in years. VT_

_Probably because like me, he hates watching you destroy yourself. Look, I can help you. John can too. In a few months you can be on your feet. You can be healthy. You can have a job somewhere and maybe we can even get you back in school. SH_

_Why do you want to do this, Sherlock? I hate to sound like a broken record but you're giving me mixed signals here. VT_

_I am doing this because you're my friend. My first friend. I'm not going to sit by and let you kill yourself slowly anymore. SH_

_...Fine. I'll try. VT_

_Okay, good. That's great, Victor. But I must warn you, if you bring drugs into this flat at all. It's over. You can't stay here anymore. SH_

_Alright...When can I come over? VT_

_Is tomorrow alright or do you need it to be sooner? SH_

_I hate to be pushy but sooner would be good, it's pretty fucking freezing outside and they won't let me stay in this shop all day. VT_

_Alright, come tonight then. SH_

_I will... Thank you, Sherlock. VT_

_You're welcome. SH_

Sherlock gave an almost squeal of delight as he sent the last message.

"John! John, look!" He said happily tossing him the phone. "Oh God, this is wonderful. He could be saved! There's some hope. We can help him, he may get clean, everything may turn out the way it should be." He crawled on top of John again to kiss him on the lips. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank you for letting him stay here. I love you so much."

"Sherlock, be honest with me a minute." John held him close but stopped him from kissing him. He heard his phone, it sounded like angry bees. "Do you love him?" John asked it softly, the jealousy put aside, no anger or accusations, just a pure question. "Because he's right, you are mixing him up just like he is doing you. And I need to know before I go parading around as Doctor-I-have-the-flu-and-a-flat-full-of-too-clever-drug-addicts-I'm-trying-to-cure, where we all stand. I don't care if you love him, I really don't. I probably should but I think by now we have established I am an idiot when it comes to you, so be honest with me. Then help me figure out how to fit all my stuff in your room." Sherlock's happiness faded away at the question. Why did love have to have a factor in any of this? He loved John. No one else... Well, he loved Victor too but in a very different way. He loved Victor the way he loved Mycroft, yes, he loved Mycroft. Sherlock gazed into John's eyes and shook his head.

"No. Not the way I love you." He whispered. "I never loved him like this, John. I just cared about him. He was my friend. My only friend. My best friend at the time. The only reason we had a relationship in the first place was because he kissed me out of the blue one day. And you know what? I kissed him back because I was twenty one, naive, and desperate to have a person care about me. I thought he was the only man that would ever be interested in me. I didn't know that you were out there in the world. If I had known, I would have told Victor we should have just stayed friends."

"It's alright love, I just want to be sure where we are. He is important to you which makes him important to me. But you should make sure he understands that you aren't in love with him." John closed his eyes and grunted. "This is going to be a hell of a ride."

"I keep telling him he's my friend. I don't know what else to say." Sherlock said with a blush he wasn't really good with confrontation. Being blunt, yes. But he knew that Victor wouldn't be happy if he just said, ' _I'm not in love with you.'_ He cared about Victor enough to want him to stay happy. "I don't want to hurt his feelings." He whispered, hating how childish that sounded. "I don't romantically love him, but I will always love him for being my friend. That's as far as it goes, John." He explained with a shrug.

"Well once we get him on his feet he might be better able to understand. We are going to have to be careful Sherlock, he might be trying to trick you. Promise me that you will stay focused on making sure you are getting clean. If we have to kick him out we will. You are the priority here." John sighed and ran his hand over his forehead, still very warm. "It's hot in here." Trick him? No, Victor wouldn't do that. Although, he had agreed very easily.

"I promise," Sherlock said as he quickly crawled off John. "Stay here." He said now entirely focused on John. He climbed out of the fort and went into the bathroom to grab a wash cloth. He soaked it in cold water and squeezed it tightly so it wouldn't drip everywhere. He crawled back into the fort and placed the cool cloth on John's forehead. "Better?" He asked hopefully. "I can start moving your things from upstairs if you want. You really do need to rest."

"Yes that is better." John said quietly. "I... We need to get my stuff out of there. I don't want it where he can go through it. I should help or we can ask Greg to come help..." He muttered softly, but his exhaustion was beginning to show. His phone kept buzzing. "Damn Mycroft, I'm not answering." He grunted.

"Don't worry, John. I'll take care of everything. This is sort of all my doing. You just lay here, okay?" He grabbed John's phone and sent a quick message to Mycroft.

_Brother, stop texting John. He has the flu and he needs his rest. Oh and please send your boyfriend over. I need help moving John's things from his room to mine. SH_

_Sherlock, why did one of my people just tell me that Victor told one of his associates he is moving in with you?! Greg is already on his way. MH_

John mumbled thank you to Sherlock and snuggled deep into the blankets. He knew what he was feeling, hot and cold, the fever, a sore throat. Bad timing all around. He kept muttering but he had fallen asleep without realizing it cuddled into the blankets so only his head stuck out. Sherlock smiled at John as he slept. He may be sick and in pain but at least in his sleep he wouldn't feel it.

"Rest, Love." He whispered, gently rubbing his shoulder as he used his other hand to text his brother on his own phone.

_Because he is. Under my conditions. If he doesn't follow them, he leaves. Simple as that, Mycroft. SH_

_Sherlock, this is insanity. John is ill, you're detoxing and we both know Victor is a loose cannon. I have half a mind to throw you in rehab just for this. He's going to hurt you Sherlock and worse he might hurt John too. Are you willing to risk that? MH_

_Greg, please try to talk some sense into Sherlock. He is moving John's things into his room so Victor can stay in John's room. I will come as soon as I can. MH_

_Has he gone insane? Shit, I'm on my way there now but I doubt he'll listen to me. He never does. GL_

_Sherlock, honestly. How is this a good idea? GL_

_Wonderful, he's made you start texting me because I refuse to reply back to him. SH_

_Yeah and you're lucky I'm the more reasonable one. I'm willing to hear you out, Sherlock but you have to give me a real good reason as to why you're doing this. And it can't just be because he's your friend. GL_

_...That is the only reason I have because that is good enough for me. SH_


	8. Tentative Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's illness is getting worse, Sherlock has the flu, and Victor arrives... But Victor doesn't find what he expects in the good Doctor but how could he? They're the only two men in the world who are mad enough to fall for Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another no smut chapter but don't worry, it hasn't all gone.
> 
> In this chapter Victor is played by Cay.   
> For imaging purposes - we used James McAvoy as the actor for Victor.

                John grunted as he sank into the familiar territory of nightmares only this time Sherlock was hurt and he couldn't help him. He grunted and started sort of thrashing about, tangled in the blankets. The restriction of the blanket on his arms and legs bled over into his dream until he was almost swallowed by the panic in his body. He shouted Sherlock's name and sat up panting hard. It took him a few minutes to realize where he was - safe, in the blanket fort, in 221B.  
  
 _Fuck..._

 

                Sherlock was upstairs helping Greg consolidate and move John's things. When they heard John shout his name he dropped what he was holding and ran down stairs, immediately climbing back into the fort to find John in a cold sweat. John was paler than normal, his eyes wild, and his breath shaking as he tried to calm himself. Sherlock felt fear in his chest but it subsided quickly as his focus enveloped John.

                                "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay?" He asked the questions quickly, wrapping his arms around him.

                                "Is he okay?" Greg asked standing outside the fort because he refused to go in. 

 

_Greg was there?_

  
                                "Nightmare.... Sorry." John forced out with a sigh, instantly trying to cover his emotion and weakness with his normal demeanor. He ran a hand over his face, his voice was dry and scratchy. He wasn't really doing well was he? "When did Greg get here?" He asked quietly, tightening the bathrobe around himself. "How long have I been asleep?" He tried to ask normal questions, pretending the nightmare was nothing. Sherlock tutted.

                                "It's fine," Sherlock assured him as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him. "You haven't been sleeping long maybe a half hour at the most." Sherlock answered. Greg tapped on the top of the fort to get John's attention and spoke.

                                "I got here about ten minutes ago. Sherlock's got me moving your things." Sherlock looked up towards the tap with a glare.

                                "I have helped." He muttered.

                                "You carried his pillows downstairs." Greg pointed out and Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked back to John.

                                "Do you need anything? Medicine? Food? Anything?"  

                                "I should help." John said softly and his throat was definitely giving him away. Damn that meant the congestion was going to start soon. "I'll make some tea and help you." He started to get up. "Greg thanks for helping." He fished around for his phone and looked at Sherlock confused. Sherlock blushed and looked away, definitely guilty.

                                "I'll pay to get you a new one." He muttered sounding embarrassed, he looked back and saw the exasperated look on John's face. "Mycroft wouldn't stop sending you messages about how I was becoming a danger to you, so I sort of... Lost my temper and threw it at the wall. Sorry." Greg gave a chuckle from outside and Sherlock gave a huff. "Go make tea, Greg. John's throat is sore." He ordered, not wanting to have Greg's judgment coming down on him now as well. Greg went to reply but John cut him off.

                                "I'll make the tea." John said softly, looking somewhere between amused and annoyed. "And some food since _Greg_ is working so hard." He teased before he kissed Sherlock gently. "I should probably get dressed and fix that table leg anyway before..."  
                                "Sherlock! What have you done?!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she came in the door Greg left unlocked. "Oh my table..." John and Greg both dissolved into laughter which then became a coughing fit for John.  
                                "I can fix it Mrs. Hudson." John called out. "Come back up in a few hours."   
                                "Oh John dear are you ill?" She asked softly, trying to determine exactly how much of their minds the two of them had lost. The blanket fort and broken table were not leaning heavily in the favor of sanity.  
                                "I will be fine. Please Mrs. Hudson let me fix the table and come back in a bit."  
                                "Oh alright dear. Lord knows what he was doing..." She muttered before wandering out.   
                                "Well..." John laughed and blushed looking at Sherlock. Sherlock blushed slightly as well.

                                "You two are disgusting," Greg chuckled before he headed back up stairs to grab more of John's things.  Sherlock on the other hand decided he needed to help John if he wasn't going to rest. He should be resting but Sherlock knew there would be no talking him out of it. He went into the bedroom and grabbed his purple shirt, a t-shirt, and pair of John's trousers.

                                 "Here, slip these on. I'll start making you some tea and food since you insist on fixing that damn table." He pecked John on the cheek before he got started. "And don't you argue with my orders, Doctor Watson, you're lucky I'm allowing you to fix the table." 

                                "Sherlock, I'm not..." He sighed and then laughed. "Isn't this your favorite shirt?" He slipped on the clothes and slid out of the fort, padding into the kitchen. The purple shirt barely fit over his arms, which were thicker than Sherlock's but he wore it all the same. The purple a start contrast against the white undershirt. Sherlock blushed slightly as John turned to look at him. "I just want to make sure that our new flat mate isn't put off by our broken table."

                                "Yes, I wanted to see you wear it." Sherlock answered with a grin as he began looking for some food for Greg who currently walked back carrying three large boxes. "You're doing wonderful, Greg!" He shouted.

                                "Piss off." Greg muttered sounded annoyed and amused.

                                "I don't think Victor would mind. He's just going to be happy to be staying in a place where no one is going to try to use him." 

                                "Love, I can handle the tea. I promise not to do anything more strenuous then fixing the table leg. Please help Greg." He wanted to help Greg but he felt achy and weak. He hated feeling so useless. He looked down fidgeting with the edges of the shirt as he did. Sherlock sighed it was hard not to do what John wanted when his nose sounded all stuffy. He frowned and walked over to him giving him a kiss on the cheek.

                                "Fine, I'll go help him but if you start to feel faint you need to sit down and rest okay?" He kissed him once more before walking back upstairs with Greg who was muttering about doing all the work himself. 

                John checked over the groceries Greg had put away earlier, trying to force his flu addled brain into some semblance of focus. He knew he owed a lot to the detective and that dealing with the love of a Holmes couldn't be easy. So he decided that while he still felt strong enough he was going to cook something for them to eat for lunch too. Most likely Greg had taken a long lunch just to come over and help the two of them out of another mess, it was the least he could do. He fixed the table easily and then set the kettle to boil. He was digging through the pantry when he heard a door close, he leaned up from digging in the cupboard a packet of something between his teeth and a package of rice in his hands.   
                                "I brought lunch." Mycroft said quietly helping John right the table and thankfully not saying anything while John scrubbed it clean. "Let's eat at the other table for now." He added clearing his throat. He held out a box to John, without even looking at him as he took it. The motion was clearly a sort of apology but it was unspoken. John took the box and looked it over, it was a new phone.   
                                "What's this?" John asked shyly.   
                                "Greg text me that Sherlock broke yours and I knew that it was dangerous for you to not have one right now. I will only say this once: I am sorry if I upset you but I am trying to look out for you two. I care deeply about my brother and just want what's best for him. Clearly that is you but not if you don't take care of yourself."  
                                "Wow... Erm, thanks." John said softly and he closed his eyes sighing. "I know you mean well Mycroft but you have to give him a chance. If he doesn't fall he won't learn what happens." John wordlessly sank into a chair when Mycroft gestured and Mycroft set about making tea.  
                                "I know that, but it is hard to watch someone so smart be so stupid. I will try to mind my tongue a bit more." Mycroft finished the tea and poured John a mug, watching him thoughtfully as he drank. He set out cups, plates, and silverware for the four of them waiting for Sherlock and Greg to reappear.

                                "John are you alright- Oh God _you're_ here." Sherlock groaned once he saw Mycroft sitting at the table with John when he came down stairs carrying a trunk filled with John's things. He was still only wearing some pajama bottoms and was actually starting to work up a bit of a sweat. He sat the trunk down, much to Greg's dismay, and walked toward the kitchen angrily.

                                 "Leave him be, he's sick Mycroft." He ordered as he ran a hand through John's hair, a clear sign that John was _his_. "Do you need anything?" He asked John and knowing full well he was starting to sound like a broken record. But his instincts were telling him to hover over John.

                                 "Mycroft is being polite Sherlock, he bought me a new phone and brought lunch." John said softly, cutting off Mycroft's retort. 

                                "Get the damn trunk, Sherlock. Come on. Put it in the bedroom at the foot of the bed." Greg ordered as he walked into Sherlock's room. "We don't have all bloody day."

                                "I'm coming," Sherlock snapped as he turned away to do as Greg told.

                                "Now that your tea is ready I will help them, if there is anything left to do." Mycroft stood and moved to Greg's side. "I brought lunch for you as I know you are accustomed to eating a bit before now each day." He whispered to Greg. John was looking over the instruction manual for the phone Mycroft had purchased. It was a lot nicer than the one he'd had previously, likely it cost a small fortune. Leave it to the brothers to make a war even out of replacing John's phone.

                                "Oh, thank you darling." Greg smiled and gave Mycroft a quick kiss on the lips while Sherlock wasn't looking. "Well, we're all finished up here. Nothing left in John's room unless he had things hidden underneath the floorboards." He joked as they all walked back downstairs. Sherlock took a seat next to John and rested his head on his shoulder attempting to remain indifferent but coming off as possessive.

                                "Do you like it?" He asked, meaning the phone. He had planned on buying John a very nice phone and was rather upset that Mycroft had beaten him to it.

                                "I think I will, but you are going to have to teach me how to use it." John blushed. He sounded like shit. He drank some tea while Mycroft opened the take away he'd brought. It was some sort of Indian food but not typical curry.   
                                "It's the same style as Sherlock's phone, just the newest one. I bought you a blue case for it and some screen protectors." Mycroft said off handedly.  
                                "Oh... Thank you Mycroft, that was very... Erm thoughtful." John smiled but he was feeling very tired. "Greg, thank you for doing so much work, I'm sorry I couldn't help. And thank you love." John smiled and leaned his head against Sherlock's. Sherlock smiled despite how sick John sounded, it still meant the same thing to him. John's forehead was warm, Sherlock furrowed his brow with worry which neither Mycroft nor Greg missed.

                                "No problem, Sweetheart." He whispered sweetly not caring that Greg and Mycroft were still there.  Obviously they would need to get used to this, if they intended to be around so often. He looked to them to watching them eating the take away. Greg caught Sherlock watching and smirked evilly, scooping up some of the food Mycroft had gotten for him and offering it to Mycroft. Mycroft caught on easily and took the bite, smirking as he did. Sherlock almost gagged. "Are you two just going to stay here until Victor arrives? You're going to scare him." Greg chuckled.

                                "That's the whole point, Sherlock. We want him to be scared."

                                "Terrified actually." Mycroft added.

                                "Why the hell would you want that? I want him to feel safe here!" Mycroft put his hand on Greg's arm.   
                                "It's alright we are having lunch with you two and then leaving. But I will be monitoring _everything_ Sherlock. One hint of his doing anything dangerous and I will make sure it's the last." Mycroft was serious. John ate a bit of food with shaking hands. He was sort of out of it for the moment, which Greg was watching with concern. He was clearly utterly exhausted and fighting it. John focused on the motions of eating, letting everything else fall away.

                                "He won't do anything." Sherlock hissed. He was upset. Why was everyone so dead set on treating Victor like a ticking time bomb? He was still a person and he didn't feel like it was stupid for Sherlock to still have faith in him. In his frustration he wanted something to distract himself from the look on their faces, so he turned to John and he noticed that for all intents and purposes John had fallen asleep with a fork in his hand.

                                "Oh my poor, Watson." He breathed with a frown, his hand gently fluttering up over John's back. "You're still so tired and trying to be so strong." He whispered the words, not trying to wake him. Greg smirked at the tenderness Sherlock was betraying and Mycroft simply watched silently. Without thinking twice about it Sherlock stood and lifted John into his arms. It rather hurt to do it, but he forced the dull aching of his own bones out of his mind to be dealt with later. John needed him right now. "If you two would excuse me I have a sick doctor to take care of." He said firmly and left with John, taking him off to the bedroom and laying him down gently. Mycroft sighed and finished eating. Enjoying a moment with Greg while they did. He then cleared everything up and walked out with Greg.   
                                "You should take the afternoon off and come with me." He smiled.    
                                "I took part of the afternoon off to come here, I should get back to work." Greg argued as he followed Mycroft down the stairs, waving goodbye to Mrs. Hudson on their way out. "Maybe after work, I can come over?" He suggested hopefully.

                                "Hm, bring clothes." Mycroft smiled. 

                                "Sher..." John mumbled, half jolting awake. It was clear he'd been sort of having a nightmare again. He blinked a bit confused. "When did we come in here?" John looked at Sherlock from the bed clutching the shirt around him like a blanket. He shivered violently. "We need to give you your medicine." He mumbled and tried to stand.

                                "How about I take my medicine myself?" He suggested with a smile as he moved to lay next to him, trying to keep him in bed. "You're exhausted, John. You need to sleep okay?" He rubbed his nose to John's. "I promise to take my medicine if will you go to sleep."  Sherlock moved to take the shirt off John but John mumbled and half pulled away, so he left it. He was certainly enjoying seeing it on him. "Will you go back to sleep if I go get it and take it in front of you?" He offered as he tucked John underneath the blankets, trying to stop the shivering that he was pretending he didn't have.

                                "Yes," John whispered as he burrowed in the blankets. "Would you please bring me the flu medicine from the bathroom? Maybe if I sleep a bit and take it I'll have more energy later. You only need two CCs, use the marks on the needle. Or just bring..." He trailed off, still talking but slipping into sleep, he shook himself awake a minute later. " Just bring it here..."

                                "Right away, Doctor." Sherlock said chuckling because it was stupid and adorably sweet that John still wanted to take care of him even now. He went to the bathroom first grabbing the flu medicine and getting John a cup of water from the kitchen. "John, wake up." He whispered running a hand through his hair, he knew that if John was falling asleep so easily he desperately needed the rest. "Take your medicine while I go get mine." He instructed and returned to the living room to get the needle from John's kit. When he came back John was asleep again, the water glass balanced precariously in his hand. He hated to wake him but he knew the consequences for not waking him would be worse, so he gently took the glass from his hand and spoke. "John," He whispered again. "I brought the needle and the medicine." John slowly sat up rubbing the sleep from his face and trying to wake up. He took the vial and the needle and filled it, though his movements were slowed. He gently took Sherlock's arm and gave him the injection.   
                                "How are you feeling?" He asked softly, settling back down. "Victor will need this too. Mycroft brought me more when he brought lunch so we have what we need. If... If he starts it as soon as he gets here the withdrawal should be easier.." John was dropping in and out of sleep, trying to force himself beyond the wall of exhaustion and failing.

                                "I feel fine." Sherlock assured him and it was a lie, a blatant lie that even exhausted John could see through . He wasn't even aware of himself at the moment. His mind was so busy worrying about John and Victor that he didn't have time to stop and worry about himself.   "I'll be sure to give it to him if you're still asleep," He lay next to John again, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him close. "You do need to sleep, though John. You're exhausted. I had to carry you in here," He teased, his nose rubbing into the back of John's head, smelling his shampoo.

                                "You're shaking." John said quietly, looking up at him. Sherlock watched as he once again tried, and spectacularly failed to try and push the sleep from his mind. It made that ache start in his chest again, the one that he equated with the deep love he felt for this man. "The way you have been moving makes me think your nausea is back. You're being too cautious with how you move around." He sat up some but didn't leave Sherlock's arms. "I can't rest if you are hurting yourself to take care of me." He sighed.  "I don't like the idea of you giving Victor medication but I doubt he will let me. So if that's the best way to get him to take it fine." He conceded but he looked Sherlock straight in the eye. "Tell me the truth, Sherlock. How are you feeling?" Sherlock wished  John never said anything about nausea or shaking because the moment he did, Sherlock became aware of the fact his body was doing it.

                                 "Well I really was fine but until you brought it to my attention that I wasn't. I'm cold and I feel very nauseous." Sherlock bit his lip, so nauseous that he would prefer to not talk about it out of fear of vomiting. "Victor may want to give himself the medication, he has... Trust issues." He whispered, trying to distract himself again.

                                "I'm sorry..." John said softly and carefully, slowly extracted himself from Sherlock's arms and got the Dramamine. He offered it to Sherlock, his legs shaking as he moved. "I can understand why he might feel that way. But I will supervise him doing it. He needs to be held accountable and if he does the drugs with the detox he can mess himself up pretty badly." John slipped back into the bed, knowing his legs weren't going to hold him much longer.

                                "No, it's fine." Sherlock sighed frowning when he watched John get out of bed to fetch the Dramamine. "John, I could have gotten that," He assured the doctor, but truthfully he couldn't have as he was already curled up in a ball. The two of them were a fucking mess. "He won't like that, but okay. If he trusts me he needs to learn to trust you as well." He wrapped his arms around himself as he realized he was freezing. Sh right, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

                                "John, I want one of your jumpers." He half asked sitting up to try and grab one but John gently pushed him back onto the bed.  John chuckled slightly and found his favorite one, helping Sherlock pull it on. They both chose to ignore the tremors running through their lovers' body.

                                "It's a bit short for you but maybe it will help." He wrapped Sherlock up in a blanket as well before crawling back in beside him. "We can take care of each other love. We agreed. Let's try to nap a bit before he gets here, yea?"  Sherlock smirked it was a tad short. In fact his belly button was almost visible and the sight of it made him chuckle.

                                "Alright. But I promise. If he's any trouble we'll make him leave. But I honestly don't think he'll be that hard to deal with." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and hugged him tightly. "I just want to give him a chance and I know you all think it's stupid of me, but I trust him." 

                                "I know you do and it's my job to be skeptical of the people you trust and to trust the people you're skeptical of." He giggled. "Well, I guess I'm the only other one you trust, aren't I?" He snuggled in closer to Sherlock aware that the warmth of his body might not help his cold shivers but testing it out just to be sure. "I'll trust him until he gives me reason not to and if he does hurt you he'll regret it. If he does what he should, then he'll find a very good friend in me."  Sherlock smiled at John. He was amazing. Everything about John was just fantastic and wonderful. Here he was being contrary to everyone else again. Everyone says run from Sherlock, he gets closer; they told him Sherlock was a freak, he thought he was brilliant; and now it's Victor is trouble but John is giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He was willing to give Victor a chance and Sherlock loved him for that. He gave him a gentle kiss and pulled a little bit away.

                                "Thank you. For everything... Now let's try to sleep. He'll be here in a few hours."

                                "Okay love." John whispered already half asleep.

                He let his hand sink down so he was holding Sherlock's, wanting to have some sort of contact with him. He nuzzled deeper into the blankets, his other hand clutching the purple shirt around him as he slept, shivering just slightly. It only took a few seconds for Sherlock to drift off. Content in the moment even though he still felt like he was about to be sick. He slept through the nausea, his hand tightly wound in John's even in sleep. Though he knew it must have been hours later when he was jolted away by a knocking at the flat door it felt like he had just closed his eyes.

                                "Shit," He gasped. The sudden shift to wakefulness letting him become aware of how hot he was. He pulled off John's jumper and sat up to survey the situation. John was still asleep and though he hated to wake him he knew his partner wouldn't like it if he tried to handle this all on his own. "John, darling, wake up. He's here." He whispered, gently shaking his shoulder before he got out of the bed to try to find a t-shirt to throw on. 

                                "Mmm." John sighed as an answer, sitting almost straight up and grunting. The fever was still fairly high but he felt a little better, at least for the moment. He stood and made sure his trousers were fastened before adjusting the purple shirt and his t-shirt. He found his new phone and slipped it in his pocket before picking up his med kit.  "We should greet him then. Together?" He asked offering Sherlock his hand.

                                "Yeah, sure." Sherlock said softly, sounding nervous. Which he was because he wasn't sure how Victor was going to react to actually meeting John. But Christ he felt hot. He could feel the sweat on his face and his stomach felt like it was turning. He held John's hand as they walked to the door.

                Sherlock opened the door and smiled at Victor, who honestly looked worse than he had just the day before. His eyes were darker, he was thinner, and he was sweating and shaking just like Sherlock was. Victor, holding his duffel bag by one weak hand, offered a weak grin at Sherlock and John.

                                "Hey, Sherlock. Oh and Johnny boy," He added with a nod at John. 

 

_I need a hit..._

                                "You two look like shit." Victor said smirking, trying to keep his mind focused. He needed a hit but he didn't have any. Sherlock had told him not to bring anything, so he didn't.

                                "Victor, when's the last time you took anything?" Sherlock asked concernedly as he let go of John's hand to grab Victor's bag and help him inside. Victor chuckled.

                                "This afternoon, thought about taking the last of my stuff before I came here but I figured it'd be best to start welcoming withdrawal now." He was shaking like a leaf as he moved to sit down on the couch. "B-B-Be careful with that bag, Sherly. It's everything I have to my name." John surveyed Victor cautiously and set the med kit down on the table where Victor could clearly see inside of it. He snapped straight into doctor mode, all signs of his own illness disappearing.  
                                "Victor, I'm glad you came." John said softly following him and Sherlock inside. He got Victor a glass of water before opening the kit slowly. "I am a doctor as I am sure you know. I have some medicine here that can help with the withdrawals and coming down. It has to be administered via injection and we should give you a dose now. Then if you are feeling nausea I can give you something for that in a bit. I can let you give yourself the injections if you want but I will prepare them for you, in front of you, and monitor you while you administer it. You are welcome to look over the med kit if you want first." John stepped back his hands at his sides in a clear nonthreatening position and the med kit lay open.  Victor was surprised by the amount of trust John was giving him. His eyes cautiously taking in the man and the medical kit before seemingly making a decision to focus on the kit itself. He didn't see anything in there that he knew could be used to kill him so he lay back on the couch and tried to relax.

                                "If you don' t mind, I'll just let you do it. My..." Shit he hated admitting how fucked up he was. "My bones are aching and my hands are shaking like crazy." He confessed and he looked to Sherlock as he came back down the stairs. "You went through my bag didn't you? Happy? I didn't bring anything controversial." He said with a faint smile.

                                "I'm proud of you," Sherlock hummed as he wiped his own forehead that was covered with sweat. "John, I hate to bother you but as soon as your done, I... I'm really hot." He panted slightly, falling back onto his chair. Victor looked at Sherlock, a frown appearing on his face.

                                "Check on him first, Doc. I can wait." John snapped his attention to Sherlock, gritting his teeth.

                                "Hm..." John grunted. He moved into the kitchen and got an ice pack which he slid behind Sherlock's neck. He then slowly prepared the injection and prepped the site on Victor's arm. Victor was surprised at how gentle John was as he gently knelt down and started checking his arm for the proper injection site. He felt John's fingers flutter lightly over his wrist, checking his pulse before deciding he was alright to proceed. "This is likely going to make your arm hurt, Victor. If you start feeling anything like burning or pain in your veins tell me immediately." John ordered softly. Victor found his attention drawn to John's face as he spoke, watching the man as if he might disappear. John gave him the injection, again checking his pulse and breathing as he did. "It's going to be hard but we will help you through this." Victor was in awe, how could John say something so kind when he didn't know anything about Victor? John lingered there beside him for what felt like an age, being sure he settled down comfortably before he moved over to Sherlock and checked his vitals as well.  "Not good, I think you are coming down with it too." He fished in his pocket for the flu meds and gave Sherlock one. "This will shorten the duration. How are you feeling?" He asked both of them, sinking down in his chair both to rest and to watch them. 

                                "Like shit," Surprisingly that answer came easily from Sherlock who was curled up in his chair. He was getting the damn flu. He was trying so hard to fight it but he knew he was getting it. He curled up tightly in chair his eyes shut tight as he held his stomach tightly. To make everything worse, his throat was already starting to feel a tad sore. "B-But I'll be fine." 

                                "If he's going through withdrawal the same time I am... Oh this is going to be one hell of an experience," Victor chuckled. He grabbed a pillow off the couch with a wince, his body aching as hugged it close.

                                "Actually he's lucky enough to be withdrawing and getting the flu. Sadly you might too. But at least we have a doctor." John smirked.   
                John got up, summoning his own strength reserves and got a garbage pail in case Victor got sick. He then found a spare blanket and placed it near Victor in case he wanted it. He checked Sherlock's pulse again and popped the thermometer in his mouth despite his protests before padding into the kitchen and making Sherlock a huge glass of ice water. He wet a dish towel and wrung it out before returning to the living room and put over Sherlock's forehead. He sighed and pinched his nose. He moved back over to Victor gently letting his fingers slid over his wrist to take his pulse again, noting that this time Victor didn't flinch away.  
                                "At least we know Mrs. Hudson is making soup. She always does when I get sick. Victor are you hungry?"  John took every opportunity to rest trying to show Sherlock he would take care of himself too. "You too Sherlock, you didn't eat earlier. Do you want something? We have some ice cream."

                                "Ew." Sherlock whimpered shaking his head at the thought of food. He felt so close to just voiding the contents of his stomach. "No." He added shaking his head gently again as he held his knees close to his chest. 

                                "I'm starving but I feel like I going to vomit." Victor answered sadly. "Which doesn't make any sense considering I haven't eaten in three days."

                                "You haven't eaten in three days!?" Sherlock asked with shock.

                                "Can't afford to, Sherlock." Victor mumbled suddenly grabbing his head. "Please, don't scream right now, alright? I feel like my head my is going to explode."

                                "Sherlock you have no room to scold him." John smirked. He went in the kitchen and made some toast and tea which he set on the table where Victor could reach it. "The bread might settle your stomach some. It might not. In about forty five minutes I can give you something for the nausea." He found another container for Sherlock watching both of them carefully. He was aware of his own body but he was in full doctor mode. He was also watching both of them carefully, observing every move they made. "If you decide you want to try something else Victor we have some other food I can make you. Sherlock, how is the heat?" He checked the ice pack. Victor wasn't showing it, but he was watching John move. First it was skepticism and fear but it was quickly changing into something else, into respect. This man was selfless.

                                "Better," Was all Sherlock could manage as he turned his head to look at Victor who was trying his best to swallow the toast. Sherlock could see on his face that he didn't want to do any of this. He was only doing this for him, a thought that was both comforting and worrying. "Victor, thank you for coming here." He muttered and Victor laughed darkly.

                                "Didn't have much of a choice anymore, Sherly." He got one piece of toast down before he had to give up and lay back down on the couch. "It was this or that bastard's place."   

                John sighed softly and moved into the bedroom, he got a pillow for Sherlock and a blanket though he was quite sure Sherlock didn't need it. He retrieved the Dramamine and set it near the medical kit before checking through to make sure he had everything he could think of available - the flu medicines, Dramamine, anti-nausea medication, the detox medications, all of it. He took the used syringe and put it in Sherlock's sharps container in the kitchen before making a pitcher of ice water and setting it on the table between the two men. He was absolutely certain of one thing, he had no idea what he should do next. So he thought -  _What would a doctor do in this situation?_ He found a note pad and began making notes on both of their conditions, setting it where they both could read it. 

                                "Victor how are you feeling? As in hot or cold, is the room spinning?" He walked over and gently checked Victor's pulses again, monitoring for an adverse reaction to the detox medication.

                                "I'm fine, you don't have to keep doing that." Victor snapped, pulling his hand away. He didn't like the comfort that easily rolled through him when John touched him. He didn't want to be touched and though usually he was better behaved than this he wasn't about to give in to it now. Which was why Sherlock went wide eyed and scolded Victor the best he could. Victor bit lip, shutting his eyes. "Sorry. I think I'm a tad irritable." He confessed as he gave Sherlock a glare. "Are you going to get mad at me every time I make a mistake?" He demanded and Sherlock nodded simply. John held up a hand to stop the two of them from fighting.

                                "It's alright, it's all fine." John said reassuringly but with the edge of authority. "You're not used to having anyone give two shits, I'm not surprised it seems coddling." John nodded and stepped back. Victor's face betraying some confusion. He wasn't used to having a say in how he was treated. "But I do have to know how you're feeling to monitor which medications to give you. I can't stop all of the symptoms but I can make this a bit easier than it would be if you did it alone." Sherlock went to speak again and John cut him off. "It's alright Sherlock, you don't enjoy being prodded at either." He said with a smirk as he moved over and took Sherlock's pulse. He pulled the ice pack out and took it back to the kitchen retrieving a second one. He was gone for a long moment as he fussed with something noisily.

                                "Be kind to him, Victor." Sherlock ordered while John was in the kitchen. "That's one of my rules too. "You can't treat him poorly because you're jealous." Victor laughed as he stared at the ceiling.  

                                "Oh that's hilarious, you think I give a shit about you anymore?" He snapped but the emotion was still there, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "You left me, remember? Years ago. I stopped caring about you then. It was stupid of me to care about you in that sort of way in the first place! Considering you weren't capable of feelings like that at the time." Sherlock bit his lip, it all sounded so harsh and he hated that Victor thought that way about him.

                                "If that's true then why'd you kiss me a few days ago?" He asked and he watched Victor stiffen a bit.

                                "Old habits die hard... Don't start deducing my behavior, Sherlock. You're the one sending me mixed signals. Letting me move in here rent free. Paying me to stay clean. Wanting to help me get clean. Letting your boyfriend fret all over me. Not exactly the behavior of someone who just wants to be your _friend_." Sherlock was about to insist that he really was just his friend but John came back into the room and they both went quiet. John could tell they'd been fighting.

                                "Thank you, love." He whispered when the new ice pack was place on his back.

                John knew this silence, this tension. This was the same sinking tension in his stomach he'd felt when he'd walked in to a naked Irene Adler in Sherlock's lap. It was the kind that signaled danger of an emotional nature was lurking around every corner. He tried not to let the tension draw up in his face, but his shoulders tightened slightly. Sherlock noticed and frowned as John continued to ignore himself and focus on the two of them.

 

_Well that didn't take long..._

 

                                "Victor when's the last time you had a shower? It might help you feel better if you get all that muck off. You look to be similar to my size, though you're very thin from lack of nutrition - you could have some clean clothes at least. It might make you feel a bit better." John offered, sitting down in his chair and putting his hands on his knees.

                                "I'd rather not say." Victor said and the embarrassed blush on his cheeks was very clear due to how pale he was from the drug use. "I don't have any clean clothes. All the clothes I have are in my bag and they haven't been washed in a while." He confessed as he turned his back to them and closed his eyes. He felt helpless.

                                "I-I can wash them for you," Sherlock offered, not wanting to be completely useless. Victor scoffed,

                                "Thanks for the offer, Sherly, but you're just as fucked up as I am right now. You'd probably vomit on my clothes." Sherlock gave a groan.

                                "Can up stop calling me, Sherly?" He asked, sounding fed up. "I always call you that," Victor chuckled. "And I've always hated it." Victor was glad neither of them could see the smile on his face as he said.

                                "That's exactly why I do it." John clenched his teeth and crossed his arms again.

                                "I can wash them later but you still need a shower. It will help to not feel like you have all that grime on you." He walked into the bedroom and fished around until he found some of his older clothes. Ones he wouldn't mind seeing the back of if the situation arose. He brought them out and set them on the table.  "Sherlock, you seem like you're feeling worse. Maybe you should go back to bed." John whispered and moved closer to him. He knelt down and started testing his pulse and temperature. Light touches fluttering over his forehead, cheeks, and eyes as he checked him over.

                                "I... I can't leave you alone-" Sherlock flushed with shame.

                                "With me? You think I'll hurt him?" Victor asked sounding more amused than anything.

                                "I never fucking said that, Victor." Sherlock snapped his voice sounding scratchy and sore. "I was trying to tell John I couldn't leave him alone to take care of you." Victor rolled his eyes.

                                "No one has to take care of me. I'm not a child." He said firmly as he forced himself to stand. "I'll go take a shower." He muttered as he pulled himself up off the couch and made his way upstairs to his new room.

                                "He's going to faint if he doesn't be careful." Sherlock muttered angrily as he rubbed at his stuffy nose.

                                "And you're both going to irritate your doctor and each other." John sighed softly. He didn't know what to do. He sighed seeing the clothes on the table and grabbed them to take them up to Victor. Victor seemed to be at ease with John, at least enough to be going on with so he thought he'd make a go of it. He kissed Sherlock briefly, "I love you, please stay here a minute okay?" He asked softly  waiting for Sherlock to nod before he went up the stairs. Sherlock really didn't have much choice, he didn't have the strength to move, so he just nodded and curled up in the chair, letting his eyes close as he tried to make his mind stop buzzing with thoughts. John knocked on the bedroom door. "Victor, I know this isn't easy but we're just trying to help. We're not treating you like a child, I'm trying to give you as much respect as possible but I still have to be medical about this." He sighed, "And putting on your dirty clothes will not help you feel human again."

                                "Yeah I know. Instead it will make me feel like I'm relying on two men who don't really want me here and who feel obligated to take care of me." Victor snapped from behind the door. He was lying on the bed, grunting. He had tried to make it to the bathroom  but he had almost collapsed on the way up, so instead he'd deposited himself on the impossibly clean bed. "Fuck it would be easier if I just left and started using. I'm already too far gone as it is." He was almost in tears now but he would never admit to being upset. "It was a mistake to come here. I only came because I thought Sherlock really wanted to help me but he hates me just as much as he always has." 

                                "I don't hate you and I can promise he doesn't." John replied softly and pushed the door open slowly, Victor registered fleetingly that even that motion was done cautiously and with vulnerability. "And if we didn't want you here we wouldn't have invited you. Be reasonable, Victor. One addict trying to get clean is hard enough. Especially when that addict is smarter than you in every possible way. He wants you to be healthy and to get back on your feet. You mean a lot to him and that's why you're here. I wouldn't have told him to ask you about getting clean if I didn't want to see you better either, Victor." He stepped in slowly, setting the clothes down. Victor looked up at John, furrowing his brow - John had asked him to come?

 

_Who the hell is this man?_

 

                                "He desperately wants to help you, Victor. Why would he just give you so much money if he didn't? You were the first person to ever look at him and see a human being. To see someone worth attention and effort, it just all got twisted the wrong way around." He didn't move closer than just inside the door, not wanting to frighten him. His voice was soft, full of concern and caring. It spoke of understanding what Victor was pretending he didn't feel. It made Victor want to hit him and to curl up in his lap and cry at the same time. "You and me are the only two people who've ever done that. We're what he has, who he has in his corner, and he wants to see you get stronger and better." Victor lay there with his eyes shut tight as he listened to the doctor. He wanted to hate him. But he couldn't do it. Someone who sounded so sincere was impossible to hate. Someone who sounded so... Kind.         

                                "You didn't know him in Uni. Everyone hated him because he was different. No one would even give him a chance... But I did, because I knew someone everyone hated so much had to be for a wonderful reason. It was the best decision I ever made going up to him and talking to him." Victor didn't regret that. Not at all. He loved being Sherlock's friend. What he regretted was pressuring Sherlock into a romantic relationship and making him do drugs. Those were the two things he would always regret. Victor slowly sat up, looking down at the clothes. "I'm having trouble believing he wants to help me because for years now all I have ever done for him is cause problems."  John stepped closer, lowering himself down on the edge of the bed and looking at Victor directly. Victor found himself looking over John, studying him as he spoke.

                                "Victor, he turned to you when he couldn't deal with me. I think that's a pretty clear sign of how important you are to him. He trusts you completely and that is something I have only ever seen him do with me. He's fought against Mycroft to even get to this moment here. To get you to be able to come here and into our care without someone breathing down your neck. As sick as he is, he is desperate to see you get well. He doesn't know what he's doing with feelings and trying to be sentimental and caring. Those aren't his things but he's doing the best he can by offering you money so you can survive. And now a safe place to get clean and sober. A place where you don't have nurses breathing down your neck every five minutes and you have friends to sit with you when the world is spinning and your stomach is going to give way." John sighed softly, but not as frustration, in a sort of ' _You two bloody idiots'_  kind of way. Victor softened, being easily pulled in by John's words but the emotion struggling in his chest was almost violent. "He's worried about hurting you and you're worried about hurting him. That means you both care. You two have a strong friendship and he would do almost anything to see it continue. He's risking his own recovery, everything he has, by trying to let you have a place to get clean. I was out the door Victor, I was going to be gone because he turned from me to drugs. But I couldn't walk out on him. Friends don't do that. People who care so deeply about each other, don't do that. I know it's a bit more awkward because we're dating and you two have history but I know he wants at least your friendship and I know he wants you clean. He's thinking with his heart for once instead of his head - he's doing this because you're his best friend and he cares." Victor wished any of that made the ache in his chest ago away, but it wouldn't. It was nice that Sherlock cared about him at all but it still hurt that he didn't love him. For years now Victor had only loved him and Sherlock never felt the same way. That was another mistake he had made falling in love for someone who wasn't good with feelings. He knew that going in but like an idiot he fell in love with him anyway. How could he not? Sherlock Holmes was the most brilliant man in the world. If you stood beside him he taught you things no one can imagine. Of course Victor had fallen in love with him, it just hurt that Sherlock didn't feel the same at all. He loved this doctor. This simple army doctor. Victor didn't want to admit it but now he could sort of see why. This simple man wanted nothing more than to take care of him. John probably never pressured him for anything at all, so of course John was who he chose. 

                                "Alright. He wants me better. He still thinks I'm his best friend. That's great and all but this is hard on me in ways I don't want to talk about. Let's just say those reasons are the reasons why I shouldn't have come."  He grabbed the clothes and frowned at them. They were not at all his sort of style. He liked t-shirts and hoodies and this was jumpers, button downs and trousers. "I'm going to go shower now." He sighed as he stood up hoping he would be able to make it there.

                                "I know you love him." John said softly, rather simply. He stayed out of the way of Victor but didn't leave. He looked up at him as Victor turned back and met his eyes for just a moment. "And I know how that feels to sit there and carry that feeling inside of yourself and believe it will never come back to you. Honestly I really can't see why you haven't beaten me up or something. Because it happened for me and not you and you were there first." His voice was soft, he looked down at his hands. Victor let the break in eye contact allow him to turn away as he headed for the door. "But maybe for now it's okay to just go with the fact he loves you in some way, that he cares enough to throw his own life under the bus to save yours, and let that give you something to be going on with?" He sounded almost hopeful, he was pleading with Victor to not give up. Victor's mind reeled and hurt as it throbbed, trying to understand what this man was doing. "It's not the best solution, I know - and I don't have answers for you - but I know one thing and that thing is that Sherlock Holmes does not give pieces of his heart away easily and if you have even a tiny corner in it you owe it to yourself to be the best human being you can be." Victor was glad John couldn't see him because he would have seen the tears streaming down his face. John was absolutely right it should be enough for him to go with but he could help but feel awfully jealous of him. He was getting to have the thing Victor had always wanted and the only reason Victor didn't beat the shit out of him was because he knew that would upset Sherlock. Which was something he never wanted to do. 

                                "Thanks for the therapy session, Doctor Watson. But I'm really not in the mood to hear it." He said the words sharply, forcing his emotion from his voice - but John could hear how the tone had softened. He left the bedroom locking himself away in the bathroom and immediately turning on the shower. John sighed and heaved himself up out of the bed, taking a moment to recover himself before heading back down the stairs. John knew that feeling, he knew that pain. He also knew, with a stab of guilt, that Victor might not ever get to feel the counterbalance. The joy of Sherlock's adoration, in the way Victor wanted to. When John finally made it all the way downstairs it was to find Sherlock was half asleep. He snapped awake once he heard John's footsteps on the living room floor.

                                "He is alright? Did he get in the shower?" He asked hopefully, his voice groggy and scratched.     

                                "Yea he got in the shower." John said softly. He sighed. He felt tired, and wrong, and a whole host of emotion that he didn't know what to do with. "He cares about you a lot." He said gently, giving Sherlock a sad smile. "Why don't you go to bed for a bit. I'll sit up and keep an eye on him then we can switch in a couple of hours." John felt guilty. Like he should somehow... What convince Sherlock to love a man who used him? Like he wasn't worth Sherlock's love and Victor was? Suddenly nothing in his head made sense. But he knew Victor was hurting and he knew what it was like to think Sherlock didn't care. He actually ached for Victor, he felt some sort of unspeakable bond with the man. The sort that came from choosing to do something so wildly crazy it forced you to become friends. That's why John and Greg were so close. They knew what it was like to live with a Holmes.

                                "I don't want to go to bed. I won't be able to sleep if I'm not near you anyway, so I'll just stay here." Sherlock insisted. He grabbed everything off his chair and made his way to the couch. "Don't worry. I'll be fine right here." He gave a loud cough which physically pained his chest. "Ow." He muttered as the coughing fit ended. He lay down on the couch and placed the ice pack on his head.  "And if Victor told you he cares about me... Well that means he trusts you because he won't even admit that to me anymore." Sherlock couldn't hide the slight bit of pride in his voice, and John flushed just a bit.

                                "He didn't tell me. Well not verbally." John sighed and sat down. Putting his face in his hands. He didn't know what to do right now. They were all very ill, stumbling through an emotional minefield, and it was likely going to get harder not easier. "Incline yourself some so you don't cough as much, love." He commanded gently, standing and forcing more pillows under Sherlock's head. "I don't think he trusts me at all really. If he does its only because of you."

                                "He's mad at me. I can tell. I wish I knew why though. He brought up when I left him which makes me think that's why he's angry with me but..." Sherlock gave a sigh as he inclined himself. "I don't know. I just want him to be content and I'm worry he won't be with me around." He was trying not to but he sounded very childish and John grinned slightly.

                                "You really can't see it, can you?" John asked softly, looking down at him with _that damned_ smirk. The one that said 'Aren't you adorable?' The one that irritated Sherlock to no end. "Just like you couldn't see it with me. He loves you Sherlock. You two were alone against the world and had nothing." He sighed again, that ache welling up in his chest again. "If I had to guess, he's in love with you." Sherlock stared at John with confusion.

 

_No. That couldn't be it. Cared about him maybe, but not that. It couldn't be that. The only person who ever loved him that way was John... Wasn't it?_

 

                                "No." He said simply, shaking his head. "Not after all this time. He's moved on by now." Sherlock closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I mean it makes no sense. Why would he love me after all this time? I hurt him when I left him. He should hate me." John had to fight not to smirk as Sherlock reasoned it out, aloud.

                                "You're thinking with your head, love. Not your heart." John sighed, and took a deep breath. He might as well put it out there. "I know that look in his eyes Sherlock, the one he has when he glances at you." Sherlock's eyes were instantly drawn up to John's face to observe the emotion that poured free as he spoke. The way he absolutely owned the words he was speaking. "The way he looked at you when you said you were hot and he told me to care for you first." He needed to move, he got up and paced even though it made him ache. He ignored Sherlock's protests about the movement because he couldn't confess this all and stay still. What neither of them had noticed was Victor had silently crept to the top of the stairs, and was sitting there listening to their words. His heart ached and he wanted to cry, hearing how Sherlock spoke - but the tone of John's voice curled inside him. Something sparked in his chest as he heard his own feelings coming out of the doctor's mouth, something he couldn't begin to understand. "I know it because I saw it every day in the mirror: for at least a year before St. Bart's, for the two years before you came home," His voice cracked slightly as he fought the grief that still hadn't eroded away. "And every day after, until two days ago. It's that hollow feeling inside your chest that screams: why did I let myself fall in love with _this_ man? Why did I choose to love Sherlock Holmes, a man who can never possibly love me back?' And it's all fine and easy to deal with when you're absolutely sure that's the truth..." He turned back, his eyes betraying some sentiment. "But when you see how someone else has managed to work their way into the mind of Sherlock, into his constant thought... It's like a knife in the heart." Sherlock suddenly understood - John was referring to _The Woman._ "And then he sees you opening up to me. He sees you turning to him and asking him for drugs to run away because you are _feeling_ things for me. For me not him. And I cannot even imagine how much that hurts. It makes me hurt for him. It makes me was to disappear so he can be with you. It makes me feel a lot of things all at once." He sighed softly, looking at Sherlock. "You are like the sun Sherlock. Once you have seen it's brilliance nothing can ever compare."

                Sherlock took all of John's words in and once he actually understood them all he felt this icy pain in his stomach. Pain because he was quite sure he didn't feel the same way for Victor. He didn't love him the way Victor wanted and that made him feel like a despicable person. Victor had loved him for years and there had never been one moment where Sherlock even thought it was possible he loved him too. Where he thought it was even possible to love him that way. It was that simple he just couldn't feel that way for him. He loved John. His sun. His brilliance. Yes, Victor was important to him, yes he loved him in some capacity but he wasn't in love with him and that made him feel terrible. Sherlock was again faced with emotional logic, the type that made absolutely no sense to him and the only person he trusted to explain it was John.

                                "Why did he move in here if he feels that way? Why would he hurt himself like that? I... I should have never offered. I gave him the wrong impression, John. I gave him hope and then he came here to have snatched away from him." Sherlock was almost in tears now, the guilt beginning overwhelming him. "I'm an awful person." Victor's heart clenched at the sound of Sherlock's voice. He hadn't meant to cause him pain, all he wanted was for Sherlock to find a way to love him. He heard John move as John approached the couch and though he wanted to run from his spot on the stairs he couldn't.

                                "You're not an awful person, Sherlock." John moved over and took Sherlock in his arms. "Feeling isn't really your thing. You didn't even admit to having feelings until recently. And to be honest you have been so terrified of hurting the man who was your first and only friend for so long I think things got mixed up. You didn't know what signals you were sending. You were entangled with him because you were afraid of being alone. He came because he knows you care and he wants you to be happy. It's not an easy thing, it will be hard, but you care and that's more than anyone else is doing for him right now. You just have to give him time and space to process all of this. And you have to acknowledge how he feels and tell him where you need him to be in your life. He deserves the straight truth from you. Maybe not right this very moment now but in the course of all of this. He deserves that Sherlock. But he needs his friend too." Sherlock was trembling, partly because of the flu but mostly because of the overwhelming emotion surging through him.  He knew John was right, that Victor deserved to hear the truth from Sherlock's own mouth but he didn't want to say it. I didn't want to watch his face. He'd seen that look before, when he'd played off his experiments of touch and sentiment with John as mere idle fascination. He didn't want to see what the overall crushing blow would do.

                                "I... I never wanted him to be in love with me. Not even in Uni. I just... I just wanted him to care about me. I never wanted thing to get that mixed up." He hid his face in John's shoulder wishing he could breathe through his stuffy nose. Victor bit his bottom lip as he heard that, it hurt to hear. "If he's loved me for this long... John, that means there's never really been anyone else. After I left he never found anyone else." 

                                "Maybe he wasn't looking. Look at the data in front of you Sherlock," John offered quietly, trying to put it in terms Sherlock would understand. Victor was amazed at how easily John did this. "I stopped dating remember? Ages ago. Even broke up with the woman I had been intending to marry when you came home. Because if you were alive and there was a chance there wasn't going to be anyone in the way. Ever." He held Sherlock tightly and sighed. Sherlock was completely overwhelmed by the sound of the emotion in John's voice. "It isn't your fault."

                                "It sure as hell feels like it." Sherlock mumbled as he held tightly onto John.

                Victor decided he couldn't take anymore of this conversation and decided to complete the journey downstairs. Neither of them had heard him, judging from the way they barely moved as he approached. His hair wet wearing John's clothes, which made him look even thinner than he already was. When he saw the pair clinging to each other on the couch it was like stab to his heart but he ignored by looking away and giving cough. He wanted to say something, anything but his throat stuck so he shoved the emotion down and continued on through the living room.

                                "I was wondering if I could maybe have some tea. I feel like I could stomach it after the shower." He made his way to the kitchen not wanting to look at John and Sherlock for long.  John kissed Sherlock's forehead and stood. John's face easily betrayed his concern as he moved and Sherlock found that familiar ache of love strengthening again in his chest.  
                                "Do you want help, Victor?' John asked gently as he moved towards the kitchen.

                                "No, not really." Victor mumbled as he started to make the tea. Sherlock sighed from the couch. He could hear the pain in Victor's voice even though he was trying to mask it. "I'd rather just do it myself while I can, John." He said John's name kindly, betrayed some emotion and John found himself almost summoned to Victor's side by it. Victor sat down at the kitchen table, burying his face in his hands. Honestly the shower did help him feel better but now he had nothing to hide the emotional pain he was in. He closed his eyes tightly wishing he could just run away somewhere. Somewhere far away from all of this mixed up emotion, but he had nowhere to go. This was the only safe haven left for him, even though it felt half like a prison. And even if he could shoot up it wouldn't numb these sorts of feelings, it never did.

                                "If you're feeling well tomorrow Victor we can go buy you some more clothes." Sherlock suggested, trying to be helpful. He knew Victor wasn't comfortable in John's clothes. Victor shook his head, not that Sherlock could see. He really didn't want to go anywhere  with Sherlock at the moment.

                                "We'll see." He mumbled. 

                                "I'm sorry." John whispered to Victor and he meant it. He retreated to his chair, putting his hands over his face. He had just wanted to help. He sighed. Victor lifted his head, turning his head to look at both John and Sherlock. The both of them were upset... Because of him. Sherlock because he couldn't understand why he had Victor's heart and John... He almost laughed because of how ridiculous it was. John was upset with him because he wouldn't accept his help.

 

_What a lovable idiot..._

 

                                "Christ, you two are pathetic." He sighed lifting his head. John stood and came towards the kitchen, looking at Victor intently as he did. "John, if you feel like you have to help me... Help me get rid of this." He held out his phone and when he saw John open his hand he tossed it to him. "That has all my contacts on it; all my clients, all my dealers, everyone. Trash it. Delete the numbers. Do something." Victor tried to say it dismissively but he noted the look in John's eyes. The one that said 'Thank you for trusting me this much.' John was day compared to Sherlock's night and it was confusing as hell to him.

                                "That's not..." John sighed. "We will get you a new one. New number too..." He promised as he brought up the reset. "You're sure about this?" He felt like shit on so many levels. Victor fixated entirely on John, ignoring Sherlock for the moment. Sherlock felt a ripple of jealousy run through him - what the hell was going on here?

                                "I'm sure." Victor mumbled. He really wasn't sure but he figured if he wanted to get clean cutting ties with everyone who had some sort of relationship with drugs was the best thing to do. Plus he wanted John to understand he was committed to this now. That he was accepting not just Sherlock's rules and money, but John's concern and help. "Just do it, Johnny boy." He said as he stood to get the kettle that was now boiling. Sherlock sat up on the couch not being able to stop himself from deduce every movement Victor made and seeing how much pain he was in. But there was something else there he couldn't deduce, something he couldn't understand. There was a softness, a new vulnerability in Victor that correlated to John - but Victor's movements were still sharp and defensive.

                                "Victor do you want me and John to leave you alone?" Sherlock asked because he figured if he didn't no one else would. John wasn't keen on leaving Victor alone, but he didn't protest as Sherlock spoke. Victor clutched the counter his eyes shutting tight.

                                "It's your flat. I won't tell you two what to do." John did the reset on the phone and then powered it off, slipping it in his pocket for now. He sighed and picked up his water, simply to have something to do.   
                                "If you're still feeling the nausea you can take something for it now." He said to Victor his attention focused on his water. His body ached, his fever was back, and he felt too much. There wasn't anything he could do, he knew that. Nothing he could say would help Victor through this, but he desperately wished he could. He pinched the bridge of his nose resting his arm on the arm of his chair. Despite not wanting to deal with either John or Sherlock, Victor sighed and walked into the living room. He turned to look at John first, Sherlock catching the gaze before closing his own eyes. He leaned back and let his body relax. If Victor trusted John maybe his being asleep would help him open up more.

                                "I am. Can I have some?" He asked softly, his eyes leaving John's and glancing over at Sherlock who was curled up on the couch, his eyes closed, a frown on his lips. "You okay?" He asked Sherlock who didn't answer. Oh, he was asleep. "He looks upset." He mumbled to John as he sat down in Sherlock's chair, close to John's. John got up and got the Dramamine handing Victor the correct dose and some water. He lowered his voice and knelt down closer to Victor so they could speak softly. As he did it he gently took Victor's pulse again, not looking up at him as his fingers lightly fluttered over the rapidly beating pulse.

                                "He is upset Victor. He is upset he hurt you." John sighed softly. "He's upset about how mixed up this all is. He doesn't know what signals he sends. He doesn't know what he does... He never meant to hurt you and it kills him that he did. I think in some ways he's a bit like a child emotionally..." John frowned, that did not sound like what he meant. "I mean that he doesn't understand emotions at the adult level.  Look, I'm sorry if I was out of line earlier, I just want to help you." Victor started at Sherlock, he looked a bit like a child when he slept too. It was adorable and beautiful... And it killed him that he'd never wake up next to that face. 

                                "You didn't do anything, John." Victor sighed, rubbing his face before getting up and walking back into the kitchen to get his tea. He used the action more as a way to break free of John's contact than because he truly wanted the tea. "You've been very nice about this and I'm the one who's acting like a dick about it. It's just... It's hard." That was as far as he could explain it. If he went any further into explaining it there was a chance he'd start crying again and he really didn't need to break down in front of John. "I don't want him upset, though. So I need get over it."  

                                "I don't think that's what he would want." John sat back, sighing softly. "I don't think he would want you to bottle up the feelings because truth be told it might make the drug cravings stronger. You're not being a dick and considering all of the things you could have done you've been rather polite." John grinned and Victor found himself grinning a bit at the comment despite himself.  "And I bet it is hard. All of this mess must be hard on you." He looked down at his hands wondering about everything. "Is there anything _I_ can do to make this any easier? I mean..." He sighed. "Well aside from disappear." He smirked to show he was teasing. "I'm serious though - you both have a hell of a battle in front of you and it's going to be harder for you than it is for him. So what can I do to help _you_?" Victor tried sipping on his tea and yes it did help the cold numbness he was feeling but it wasn't strong enough. He needed something that could make his mind stop thinking about Sherlock. The only two things that had ever worked were drugs and alcohol.

                                 "You can tell me where some alcohol is. That'd really help me." Victor said as he started looking through the cupboards for something that had a kick to it. "I just... I need something to take my mind off... _It_." John got up and swept into the bedroom, he rummaged around until he found his jacket and pulled out a flask with some whiskey in it.

                                "This is all I've got. Sherlock doesn't let me keep much in the house - which is probably a good thing. He'd poison it or something and I wouldn't be able to taste it." He tossed it to Victor. "That's the strongest we've got. I can go get more tomorrow if you two are okay enough to be left alone for a bit." John paused as he had a slight coughing fit, ending up bracing himself against the wall. Victor felt concern well up in his chest and made a motion to ask if he needed help, but he shook his head no. "But I can tell you it won't work. The only thing that works is that insanely annoying thing called talking about it."

                                "Talking about it?" Victor shook his head. "Yeah right, not going to happen." He said as he took a swig from the flask. It wasn't that strong but it was strong  enough for now. He let out a wince before taking another sip. "I'm not insane. I'm not going to sit here and talk about my feelings for my ex-boyfriend with his current boyfriend, that's all kinds of wrong." He closed the flask before rubbing his face with his hands. "I don't know why you're so keen on helping me, you're his boyfriend, I'm the ex, you should be jealous of me." 

                                "I was jealous of you." He leaned back, getting comfortable in the chair. The two of them actually sank into a strange comfort with each other without realizing it. "Still am. You were his first friend. You were the one that opened him up to the world so I could even come into his life. I'll never get that. But being jealous isn't going to do any of us any good." He sighed, no matter how he tried to phrase it, it would be bad. "Hell, it was my idea for you to come stay here. I will never stand in the way of his relationships with others. If he decided he wanted me and three other men I would let him because I just want to be in his life." John sighed, it was strange to say that out loud but it was the truth.

                                "Ah," Victor hummed a knowing smile on his lips. He understood that feeling completely. "That's what being in love with him does to you. I feel the same way. That's why I offered to sleep with the both of you." He was sure Sherlock had told him about the offer and his lack of response seemed to indicate that was true. Sherlock trusted him and he was starting to trust him as well. "I was just... Trying to give him what I thought he wanted but apparently he doesn't even find me attractive anymore." Victor opened the flask and sighed, "You got me talking about it." He took a sip and closed it again. "Damn you." Victor smirked slightly as he and John met each other's gaze.

                                "It's easier to talk about when you find there's someone else mad enough to fall in love with Sherlock Holmes." John smirked. "We are both insane."

                                "Yeah but clearly you're not that insane." Victor said with a shrug. "You got him. I didn't. Clearly you were doing something right. I wasn't." Victor looked down, he knew everything he did wrong and he'd give anything to go back and change it.

                                "You did the best you could with what you had." John said and he was convinced it was true. "I mean I didn't even do anything. I gave up. I resigned myself to thinking he would never feel the same for me that I do for him and that it was okay. That I could find a way to stay here with him and take what I could out of our interactions. I had no faith he could ever be able to or would ever want to love me." He sighed, admitting it hurt. "At least you tried to get his attention."

                                "Yeah I tried alright." Victor said with a sad smile. "Only I did everything in the world he hated to get his attention. I started dragging him to parties. Then there was the drinking.  Then the drugs. Then I talked him into doing drugs... My efforts were pretty shitty, John." 

                                "You gave him something to turn off his mind. You tried to be there for him. It's more than anyone else ever did Victor." John sighed softly, looking both of them over carefully. "You have a special place in his heart and his life."

                                "Yes, John. That's just wonderful but it's not the place I want." He snapped maybe being a bit too loud. He was trembling now and he handed the flask back to John. "I'm glad I'm in his life at all but trust me when we were in Uni I never pictured us years from now ending up like this! We were supposed to-" He sighed when he heard Sherlock coughing. He was awake he had heard everything they'd said. "I'm going to bed." He muttered and left the room in a hurry. John sighed and wanted to follow Victor but his body just refused to move. He groaned. 

                                "How long were you awake?" He asked suddenly, going a bit red as he did. 

 

_Christ, he hadn't even checked._

 

                He slowly opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. His body a bit tense as he did. He wasn't sure what Sherlock would say if he'd truly heard everything John had just spoken out loud. It was an awful amount of sentiment and John still wasn't sure how much Sherlock actually appreciated. Sherlock bit his lip nervously, turning a bit red as Victor ran passed him and up the stairs. He'd hurt Victor so much, and not only that but both of these men were so in love with him they were both willing to do anything he wanted just to be in his life and that was both beautiful and utterly tragic.

                                "I... I never went to sleep." Sherlock confessed.

                                "Yea...." John whispered, sighing softly. "I should have guessed as much. Git."  He coughed again, a ragged aching thing. He pushed himself up and went and made a fresh kettle of water for tea. He was flustered and embarrassed. He was also a scared of how Sherlock would react to what had been said. He fussed over the tea for a long time, making a cup for Sherlock. Not returning to the living room until the mugs were ready. "Did you enjoy that?" He asked quietly, not accusingly but with hurt in his voice. "Next time I'm going to check you over first." Sherlock didn't blame John for being cross. He had every right to be. What he'd done wasn't a decent thing. It was wrong. Eaves dropping like that was horribly wrong. But he honestly didn't expect to hear conversation like that going on. He was only hoping to hear Victor's thoughts.  
                                "I didn't think you'd be the one who opened  up. I just wanted to know how he honestly felt. I didn't think you'd go and... Admit to all that." Sherlock's voice was a bit awed and John turned crimson. Fussing about picking up his tea.

                                "Neither did I, but you know...  It sort of happens." He sighed again. "You're going to have to talk to him like an adult you know. You owe him that." John was shaking, partially out of tiredness and partially out of sheer terror that the amount of sentiment he'd set free would cost him Sherlock. "Are..." He set down the tea, clinking it to the table as he did. He took a deep shaking breath and tried to force evenness back into his tone. "So you heard it... What now?" He whispered, his fear evident. Sherlock blushed turning his back and curling up on the couch. He didn't know how to deal with this. All this sentiment coming from John and Victor. It was overwhelming. Not unwelcomed just overwhelming. 

                                "We start talking about marriage?" Sherlock asked nervously hoping that was the answer John was looking for. To be honest he wasn't sure what the right answer was, but if John loved him that much then it was the right step, wasn't it? John spluttered on his tea and coughed, choking slightly. He flushed another shade of red and set the cup down, coughing still. Whatever he _had_  expected that had not been it. He should be used to the unexpected coming out of Sherlock's mouth by now, but this was... This was sentiment and it was beautiful.

                                "I uh... I didn't... Uhm..." He was smiling like an idiot but completely lost for words. He laughed at himself which caused another coughing fit. "I didn't think you'd..."  _Come on John!_  "I didn't think you'd be into that... And I mean... We've only just started... Not that I don't want to... I..." He sighed softly trying to calm the sensations running through him. Sherlock dissolved him into nothing so easily. "Are you serious or saying what you think I want to hear?" He finally forced out. His eyes searching over Sherlock's form. Sherlock curled up even more, his face a terrible shade of red. Maybe this wasn't the right way to approach things. John was right, they had only just started dating or... Whatever it was they were doing. He clutched his blanket close and wishing he could take back the fact he'd said anything.

                                "I um... I thought that was the proper reaction. If you find out someone loves you that much you start discussing marriage. Erm, not good?" He asked shyly. "I'm sorry if it wasn't. I didn't mean... Just ignore me." His tone sinking with his heart. John shook his head, Sherlock had it all wrong.

                                "Oh its better than good, Sherlock. In fact it's wonderful." John barely whispered blushing more. "Just unexpected." He stood to walk to the couch and barely made it, his legs shaking hard. He knelt down and put his hand softly on Sherlock's back.  "I..." He swallowed hard, words abandoning him. "Yes." He looked sheepish as he said it, just forcing it out almost like a breath. He let his hand find Sherlock's arm, squeezing gently. He coughed again groaning as he did but his smile never faltered. Sherlock heart stopped beating for a few moments and he was sure he was dreaming because there was no way he'd said that. There was no world where a person who held any sort of common sense would say yes so quickly, especially not to _him_. He slowly shifted, turning his back - but apparently the effort was too much too soon for his body, because he broke into a loud coughing fit. He covered his mouth, trying vainly to stop it and looking at his lover.

                                "W-What?" He said through the cough. "W-What did you say?" He asked, finally his coughing coming to end. "Did you... You didn't say yes? You'd be mad if you said yes because I was mad for even bringing it up so soon." 

                                "I'd be mad _not_ to say yes." John whispered his eyes meeting Sherlock's. He gently reached up and brushed a curl off Sherlock's forehead. "I told you, I don't just say things. Yes." He replied again to the unasked but very present question, letting every inch of his body display that as his answer. The weariness of his illness was gone for the moment as love filled him. "And we have already established I am mad." Sherlock couldn't stop the bright smile that came to his lips or the stupid tears that came to his eyes. It was utterly unbelievable how easily this _ruddy brilliant man_ went along with his schemes.

                                "We're both mad." Sherlock chuckled. His arms wrapping around John and hugging him as tightly as possible. "I love you so much." He paused as parts of his conversation with Victor came back into his mind. "You have to understand, John, what you said you'd do for me... I'd be willing to do the same for you. That's how much I love you." John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, cursing that he was a bit weak in doing so. He nuzzled his face against his neck.  
                                "I love you." He whispered, a few tears of his own falling. "I don't know how I got to win your heart but I am glad I did. And I'll keep that in mind but for now I just want you." He closed his eyes enjoying the comfort of the embrace. Was this really happening? We're they really engaged now? Christ it had all happened so fast. Almost by accident. It was like the moment they met all over again. Didn't even know each other properly and they moved in together. John shot a man to save his life within only a few days of knowing him. They had always done things like this. Extremely fast. 

                                "Looks like Mycroft should have expected that happy announcement a little later." Sherlock said and the moment he heard John giggle he let out a laugh as well, unable to stop himself.

                                "I'm sure he will simply tell us how he knew and we were idiots for not seeing it." John said softly, a smirk in his voice. He was tired and fighting it. His forehead warm against Sherlock's neck. "I love you." The giggles dissolved into a violent coughing vit.

                                "I love you too." Sherlock hummed, kissing John's shoulder and neck. "So much, that's why I want to marry you. Hearing you say all that... It made me realize I felt the same way. Then, I figured, if we both love each other this much, why aren't we married yet?" He chuckled which sadly ended into a terrible coughing fit. He tried to cough away from John. "S-S-Sorry." He said between coughs. 

                                "Because you don't do sentimental? I have always just been waiting for you to observe the truth. I have loved you for a long time. You saw it in the beginning, realizing I was flirting with you when I hadn't been intending too... But after Irene you sort of pulled back. Then after you came home I was too stubborn to speak up." John smirked before giggling but it made him cough too. "We're a right mess." He sighed. "I'll make us some fresh tea, then I think I need a nap. You are going to need to talk to Victor sooner or later love."

                                "We should probably go to bed, it is past midnight." Sherlock said, a smile on his face as he rubbed at his stuffy nose. "But... I really don't think I should talk to him. At least not right now and I'm damn sure not going to tell him about this. That would crush him." Sherlock frowned hiding his face in John's neck for a moment. "Why does everything have to be complicated? Usually I love complicated things, but not like this." John had to smirk at the irony of the statement but Sherlock didn't catch on.

                                "Because this is feelings, love. Not logic." John said and stood, swaying slightly on the spot. "Not tonight but talk to him tomorrow." He said softly. "We have to give you an injection before bed. I will set an alarm and get up in a few hours to check on him." He ran his hand over his face, he felt worse than before. He had to focus, he had to do this.

                                "Okay," Sherlock mumbled hating the idea of talking to Victor about all this. He stood up, his head spinning from the blood rush. "Oh God," He breathed as he started to move towards the bedroom, frowning as he did so. "I... I can't talk to him, John. I don't know how to discuss things like that properly." 

                                "He deserves you trying." John offered. He grabbed a clean syringe and the medication forcing his hand still as he did. "All you can do is try, but you have to try." He sighed and gave Sherlock the injection before coughing again. Sherlock curled up in the bed after his injection, rubbing at his sore arm as he listened to John cough. He hated to hear him in pain of any kind. "Fine I'll try but he's going to hate me for this. He may not now but once I tell him that you and I are... He'll hate me." Sherlock just wanted to be his friend. Why did everything have to be complicated?

                                "You don't have to tell him that yet. You just have to tell him that you don't love him and that you want to be his friend. We don't have to tell anyone else about that yet. We don't even have..." He coughed again, drinking some water. He paused moving around and making sure the room was dark. He padded out, coughing as he did and bolted the flat doors closed. Then came back in the bedroom and slowly stripped off his trousers and his shirt. "We don't have rings yet or anything..." He said softly. He was sweating and aching all over. He dropped down in the bed pushing the covers away. 

Sherlock watched John with a concerned frown, he wished he could do something to make him feel better but he was just as sick as John was. All he could do was lay a hand on his chest and rub it in soothing circles.

                                "We can go out and pick some rings as soon as this awful flu is gone." Sherlock promised. "O, if you want to be real rebels we can get our rings tattooed on." He suggested trying to do something to make John smile for a bit and forget about the pain. John smiled, but the pain didn't fade from his eyes.  
                                "Oh no, you are buying me a real ring. I think I deserve that at least." He laughed and then coughed again, curling up in a ball as he did. "You can get a tattoo if you prefer but I want to see what you pick out for me." He blushed a bit but sighed happily at the feel of Sherlock's hand on his chest. "I hope you can sleep." He fumbled about setting a soft alarm for four hours later and his head falling to the side slightly as sleep tried to claim him. 

                                "No, I'll get a ring too. But you get to pick it out for me." Sherlock yawned, moving a bit closer to John. Not enough to where his body heat would pose a problem but close enough where John would be able to feel he was there. He continued to stroke his chest as began to drift off. "Goodnight, My beautiful fiancé." He whispered before sleep finally took him as well. John simply mumbled already dropping off. The last thing he fully registered was the need to be closer to Sherlock and his vain attempts to wake enough to scoot towards him. Then sleep took him.

 


	9. Momentary Lapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally confronts Victor about what happened between them all those years ago, but it doesn't end well. Sherlock has a terrible fall, hitting his head awfully hard. How will John cope with his lover not being able to remember his face?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, we're so close to being done with this fic. It's almost over. But don't worry, we have a Christmas themed sequel in the works called 'All He Wants For Christmas.' -Cay
> 
> Hey lovelies! It has been properly brought to our attention that we should warn you about the state of the Baker Street Boys! When we started out here we had no idea the characters would take things the way they have so we have updated the tags and are putting forward this note. Victor does become a part of John and Sherlock's relationship but in a Friend's With Benefits/Crush sort of way. There will be some fun ahead, but Victor's presence is only temporary.

Sherlock awoke to the sound of beeping and gave a groan before retreating under the blankets. John's dedication to his task was worth admiration but right now it was warranting another broken phone. He grumbled, fumbling around until he found John and shook him gently. John didn't answer so Sherlock shook him a bit harder complaining as he did.

"No, we just went to sleep." He mumbled as he curled up in a ball next to John. "Make it stop." He pleaded sounding too much like a child but he was simply too tired to care. "John." He whined, shoving him a bit harder. John grunted and woke, grabbing his phone. It took him a minute to realize why he was even awake but when he sat up shaking hard as he pulled himself from bed and fumbled about putting his trousers on.  
"I'll be right back." He said softly and it was clear he was a lot sicker than he had been before they'd gone to sleep. But he had to check on Victor and give him another injection. He grunted as he silenced the phone and moved to exit the room, his face furrowed with focus and pain. Sherlock was too tried to even argue. Hell, he was already half asleep again when John got up and was already out like a light by the time John left the room. Victor was curled up on the couch. The telly turned on as he sat tense on the couch and shivered. He wanted drugs, so very badly right now. He wanted out of this flat. He wanted to get away from this pain. Away from Sherlock, all of  _it_. But he couldn't. He had no way to call in favors anymore. John was a clever doctor, keeping Victor's phone with him even after deleting the contacts and resetting it. Victor found his mind wandering to John, relishing in the momentary distraction. He really did seem to think of everything, pushing himself to the limit to care for Sherlock just list Sherlock always told him he did. A shuddering feeling ran through Victor and he couldn't do anything but whimper. His bones ached so badly he didn't trust himself to stand, so he simply lay there shaking and rocking himself gently until he heard the soft footfall of John entering the room. John's attention was immediately and fully on him, and it emboldened Victor to speak up.

"I need something, John. A strong something." He growled with pain. John grunted in acknowledgement and handed him the flask. He moved over and prepared another dose of the detox medicine, he prepped the dose the same as before where Victor could see every movement. John was focused on doing everything he could to earn Victor's trust and assure him of his safety. It was very important to him and was clear in every move he made, but Victor wasn't paying attention to what John was doing. He was in too much pain to care about safety or trust anymore. If John wanted to kill him Victor would welcome it. This was awful, the need of, no wanting something so badly that it physically pained him. He let out a scream into a pillow wishing he could make all this pain go away.

"I don't have anything strong enough to mask this for you." His voice was a hit hoarse, but offered comfort as he came to sit beside Victor on the couch. He coughed roughly but he continued on. "But I can sit with you, you can talk about whatever you want... Keep yourself distracted." John gently took his wrist in his hand and checked his pulse, momentarily stalling Victor's mind again with such a kind touch.

"I don't want to talk. I don't want to do anything. I just want to stop feeling like if I don't take drugs soon I'll explode." He hissed through gritted teeth, pulling his wrist away from John gently. John administered the medication and set the needle down on the table before turning and resting his hand on Victor's shoulder. Victor felt conflicting emotion rise in his chest - both the desire to lean into that casual contact and a desire to pull away. He decided to pull away, not because he wanted not to be touched by John, but because in the moment he didn't want contact at all.

"You have to focus on something other than the withdrawal or you'll only get pain." John looked thoughtful for a minute and got up, flipping the television off. "Telly isn't helping as near as I can tell. What sort of things do you like? Music? Movies?" Victor gave a laugh through his pain. This man was ridiculous.

"I haven't seen a movie in about a year, and I only get to listen to music if I'm hanging out with someone else. And everyone I have ever known has had shitty taste in music besides..." He tensed. He's managed to keep his thoughts away from Sherlock for several hours and now he was back. "Well, Sherlock of course." He sighed, he was surprised when John gave a slight hum of acknowledgement before moving over to a small stereo Victor hadn't even noticed before.

"Well if you prefer Sherlock's taste then you must like classical then?" John stood almost still as he flipped through a CD case. Victor could tell it was his because of how gently he flipped through it, but as flipped through Victor could see most of the CDs were classical collections. John Watson didn't strike him as someone who liked classical music, which meant he was just as easily influenced by Sherlock as Victor himself had once been. He seemed to be looking for a specific CD, his brow furrowed with focus. Victor found himself enjoying the overall effect the look had on his face, betraying the compassion that seemed unending within the man. His mind sufficiently distracted he watched as John picked out a CD and slipped it into the player. John knew it was one of the few CDs Sherlock occasionally put on himself when he needed noise to think but didn't want to play himself. He turned it on not to softly and not to loud. "He walked back over and sat down next to Victor again, helping prop him back against the couch. "Focus on the music, the notes, the details... Let it fill you up until nothing else exists but the sound." Victor gave him a quizzical look and it made John get the impression he thought he was insane. "Trust me, I know it sounds stupid, but try it." He coaxed gently, stopping short of putting his hand on Victor's shoulder again.

"You're strange, Doctor Watson." Victor said quietly but he did relax at the sound of the music. He closed his eyes doing exactly as John instructed and listening to the continued soft commands John gave. John's weight was a comfort beside him and as his mind relaxed he felt his attention shift to his memories. Suddenly he wasn't in Baker Street anymore. He was in his old flat laying down on the couch with his head in Sherlock's lap. Sherlock playing with his hair as he studied. The memory continued on for a long peaceful moment before the soft sound of John asking if the music was helping snapped him back. "Sort of. It takes my mind off the drugs but it makes me think about him." He whispered the confession, turning to look at John. John was close to him, the way a friend would be. There were no signs of fear or disgust in his features, just interest and concern. "He was the one who introduced me to this music. I used to only like alternative music... I still like it but now I like this too. When we were in Uni I'd take me music and mix it with classical, just to annoy the hell out of him. A few times he liked the combination though." Victor smiled fondly before closing his eyes again. John coughed raggedly and Victor was reminded that he was just as sick as the two of them were. "You should go back to bed, John. It's late and we both know Sherlock needs someone sleeping next to sleep at all."

"Perhaps, but he is not the only one I am caring for." John got up, putting the CDs where Victor could reach them and sighed. He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath, drawing strength when he had so little left. "You shouldn't be alone if you are in so much pain." He said quietly, his face a mask as he buried his own. "I can sit up for a bit if you want company." The offer was so genuine it made something in Victor twinge.

_Why do you even care?_

"You should be taking care of yourself, John." He snapped as a reply trying to get the conversation off himself. "I know how Sherlock can make you forget to do things like, that but you sound like you are on the verge of having something much worse than the flu." He curled up on the couch, listening to the music, and wishing he could go back to those simple moments when Sherlock was first introducing him to it.

"I am well aware of what I need to do to take care of myself." John said softly, though there was a bit more of the 'doctor' than the 'man' behind the tone. "I am taking medication and doing what I need to. I don't need constant supervision, you two do." He sighed, Victor didn't respond so John looked towards the bedroom. He should probably check on Sherlock. "I'll be back." He sighed and he moved into the bedroom. He moved softly to the side of the bed trying to check on Sherlock without waking him. He wavered slightly, his legs wanted to drop out from under him but he buried the weakness deep down. One of the three of them had to act like a functioning adult and right now it was clearly going to have to be him. It was like having two teenagers in the flat with the two of them. "Love, are you awake?" He asked gently, barely placing a hand on his arm. Sherlock hadn't been but he woke at the sound of his lover's soft voice.

"I am now." He replied gently but couldn't stop the terrible coughing fit that followed. "Are you alright?" He asked, sitting up in the bed with a bit of wince because of his aching body. "Is Victor alright?" He asked after his somewhat sleep addled mind remembered that Victor was there with them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean make you to wake all the way up." John said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I'm fine." He lied flatly. "Victor is alright I think, but he's in a lot of pain. He's in the living room listening to some music." He softly let his hand flutter over Sherlock's forehead checking his temperature. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm freezing so I am going to go take a shower. I didn't want you to worry." He ended with a coughing fit and without intending to let his weight sink down on the bed to stay standing.

"No, it's fine." Sherlock said and it really was because he could hear the pain John was in and it made him want to do anything he could to make John care for himself. "I'll go take care of him." It was about time he faced him. He wrapped his arms around John and hugged him tightly, pressing gently kisses to his forehead. "You go take a shower and go back to bed. I'll... Go see what I can do to help Victor." He stood grabbing his pajama pants and t-shirt off the floor. "Do you need help getting in the shower?" He coughed. John walked over shaking as he did and wrapped himself around Sherlock. He almost clung to him, knowing it was a stupid needy thing to do but he did it anyways. He nuzzled his face against his chest for a moment and then slowly pulled away. He ran a hand over his face and may have even brushed away a tear.

"I think I can manage." He said softly. "In a little bit we can take more of the flu medication. Are... Are you sure you're alright? I can take over again with Victor after my shower." His voice betrayed how deeply worried he was for Sherlock and how desperately upset at himself he was for being sick when Sherlock needed him to be strong. Sherlock felt that flutter in his chest as John offered to find strength so Sherlock could rest.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said quickly forcing a smile. He wasn't really fine - he felt this horrible sickness in the pit of his stomach and knew that it had nothing to do with the flu. It was because he had to face Victor now. He was absolutely terrified of this emotional minefield he was facing. He didn't know how to address all this properly. He wanted to but he didn't know how. John gave another ragged cough, pulling Sherlock from his thoughts. "Go get in the shower, doctor's orders." He pecked John on the lips before ushering him towards the bathroom. "I can handle this." He said but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

"You  _can_  handle it." John whispered and pulled him into a deeper kiss before slowly shuffling into the bathroom. John flipped the shower on and slowly undressed. He stepped into the stream of hot water and let his forehead rest against the wall. He didn't know why but he felt overwhelmed, like too much emotion was caught in his chest. He took slow metered breaths as he tried to keep himself calm. He found himself worrying about the two of them, about Sherlock and about Victor. Meanwhile Sherlock nervously stepped into the living room seeing Victor laying on the couch with his eyes closed.

"Beethoven." Sherlock hummed as he entered the room. He watched Victor's eyes open slowly and turn towards him. They looked like they were filled with deep sadness. "From what I recall you used to prefer Bach to Beethoven." Sherlock moved closer, sitting on the arm of the couch and watching Victor carefully. "Beethoven was always one of my favorites. But then again you used to love Fall Out Boy too." Sherlock chuckled, trying to see if he could get his old lover to smile but he wouldn't. Victor just remained tense and distant. "John's in the shower." He explained with a shrug.

"I sort of guessed as much from the sound of the water." Victor said softly and moved so he was at the opposite end of the couch. He tensed a bit and sat up rigid and firm. "So what he sent you in here to babysit me? I'm an adult. I don't need you two breathing down my neck." He was trying to be harsh but the emotion wasn't behind the words, something even Sherlock could read. "What's with him anyway? He's going to crash and burn at this rate." He again tried to remain unaffected but Sherlock detected the attachment in his voice. It intrigued him but he knew better than to push too hard. Victor seemed to trust and care for John, perhaps that was something that would make this easier?

"He's a doctor." Sherlock said moving onto the couch and laying a hand on Victor's foot, trying to comfort him. "He feels like he should take care of everyone else first and himself last. It's a bit mad but I love him for it." Sherlock said without thinking. He bit his lip the moment the words left his mouth, that was really not the best thing to talk about. "I mean... Um... How are you feeling?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"Ha." Victor said flatly and pulled his foot away from Sherlock's grip. He managed to curl himself up on one cushion of the couch, sinking in on himself. "So that's why you love your little Doctor? Because he grinds himself to the bone for you?" He clawed at his arms as a wave of pain washed over him. His words bitter and harsh as the childish jealousy flooded through him. "You could get that anywhere." He shook his head. "I said I'm fine. Really, you two can just go on and be happy. What's it matter how I feel?"

"No, no, that's not..." Sherlock frowned, trying to figure out how to explain it. "I don't like that he does that but it means that he cares a lot. Not just about me. About you," Sherlock started and Victor felt that string in his chest tighten again. "About everyone. He has compassion for everyone, that's one of the reasons I love him." He explained but Sherlock couldn't help the frown that formed when Victor pulled away from him. "It matters because I care about you. He cares about you. You're my best friend." Sherlock reached out to touch him again, trying to let him know that he was here to help.

"Stop it Sherlock! Stop touching me." Victor growled, slapping his hand away. "Yea, your best friend... After everything..." He got up and started pacing even though it hurt his head to do so. "I don't know why I agreed to this. What was I thinking that  _you_  could ever..." He paused and clenched his fists. "Why do you even care? How am I even important to you? You have John now, so aren't I replaced?!" Sherlock stared at him with confusion. He didn't know? How could he not know? Sherlock stood, placing a hand on his shoulder to make him stop pacing.

"You were the first person to actually look past my mind, Victor. You didn't hate me like everyone else did. When I did my deductions for everyone else they told me to piss off and called me a freak. Then you were there and I deduced everything about you and what did you say?" He asked with a wide smile and when Victor didn't answer he frowned. "You said 'that's coolest fucking thing I have ever seen, can you teach me how to do that so I can blackmail people?'" He gave a laugh at the memory but Victor didn't laugh. He tensed and pulled back.

"Yea..." Victor sighed. "But that was then. Things changed! Damn it, this is stupid. You don't get it do you?" He paced some more before turning back and closing the gap back to Sherlock. "Don't you remember how it felt?" He came over bad grabbed Sherlock's hands. "You and me against the world?" Sherlock smiled a bit, but internally he had a flicker of fear. He didn't let it show, instead just smiling because he didn't want Victor to feel like he was rejecting him completely. He gave his hands tight squeeze.

"Of course I remember." Sherlock assured him. "It was wonderful, I never said we didn't have good times." He tried to pull away from Victor but found Victor's grip was a bit stronger than he thought.

"Why wasn't I good enough?" Victor demanded, refusing to let go. "Why is he better? He's plain! Ordinary! Boring! All things you hate! What makes him more than me Sherlock? I did everything for you." Victor was shouting.

"He is not boring!" Sherlock shouted, just like he had at dinner with his brother. He yanked his hands away from Victor, almost falling backwards. "He's brilliant and wonderful and you have no right to call him that considering when we met you were just a student studying business!"

"He's not even sure which way is up, Sherlock." Victor sneered. "I love you! I gave you everything. Why? Why don't you love me?" He lowered his voice, which wasn't much better than the shout. It sounded dark and deadly.

"Because you're my best friend!" Sherlock shouted, moving towards the couch. Doing what he could to put space between the two of them. "You were my friend! But that's all!" He felt terrible for saying in such a way but it needed to be said. "I never wanted to be with you in a romantic way. I didn't want to cross that boundary with you but I was twenty one and I thought if I wasn't with you I'd never find anyone else who wanted to be with me. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to do that to you."

"That's all?" Victor growled. "That's not what you were saying two months ago. When you were laying on my couch aching for another hit." He took a few steps towards Sherlock, anger apparent in every line of his body. He focused his entire attention on Sherlock because it made him not feel the pain. It made him feel stronger. His voice was dark. "You begged me to help you. Said you needed me and now you say this? So what, Sherly? You used me? Now you're just going to try to help me get clean and just toss me away?!" He leaned down so his arms made a sort of cage around Sherlock on the couch. "Is that what you're saying? You pretended to love me so you could feel better about yourself? I would have given you everything!" Sherlock shivered and Victor bore down on him more, his mind completely shorted out by the grief clawing at him. "I love you more than he ever could." He growled again. He was out of his mind with rage and pain, and dangerously close to doing several things he might regret. Sherlock stared up at Victor with worried eyes. He was pinned underneath him, his heart was pounding and he felt weak. It was like he was twenty one old all over again.

"Get off me." He whispered, trying his best to stay calm. "Victor, if you love me like you say you do, you'll get off me."

"I'm not even touching you, Sherly." He growled his eyes burning into Sherlock's. "You keep dodging my question and I want the damn answers." He retreated slightly when he remembered the John might return at any moment, but he was still standing so Sherlock was trapped on the couch. "Why did you kiss me? Why did you go down on me? Why did you always come to me when life got too  _hard_ for you if you don't love me?! Why did you use me?!" Sherlock felt his face warm simply because he felt embarrassed and under pressure. He couldn't do this. He should have waited for John to be here to help him. His eyes began to tear up as a child's might having so much focus on himself when he wasn't prepared for it.

"I came to you because besides John... You're all I have. You've ways been there for me because your my friend. And you kissed me a few days ago, I didn't kiss back. I should have thought that was clear."

"Yea well I sort of thought that was part of your whole 'I don't do emotions' thing." Victor growled lowering himself back down so he was leveled with Sherlock, stooping over him. "You should be mine, Sherly." He smirked, "All you have... Is that why you want me clean? So that when you push him away you have someone to fall back on?" Sherlock shook his head quickly. "No." He gasped utterly shocked Victor had drawn that conclusion. "No, God no, Victor. I want you clean because you're my friend. I would die inside if I woke up to find out you're dead." His voice cracked a bit as he sucked in a breath. "I want you in my life like you used to be before, back before you started doing drugs."

"You can't mean that and say you don't love me!" He grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him. "I only want to get clean for you! I love you dammit!" He pulled Sherlock up to standing without thinking about it, his eyes flashing violently. "Before the drugs I was your boyfriend damn it!" He shook Sherlock again completely lost in the emotion of it all. The shouting finally drifted to John, and he jerked awake, still in the shower and rather out of it. He grunted softly and reached for his soap to actually clean off. He felt horrid and he was sure Sherlock must not be feeling any better. He had taken to falling asleep in the shower now, he really was adapting Sherlock's habits. He smirked as his thoughts ran over the events of the last few hours before their nap.

_Christ... We're engaged..._

"Before that!" Sherlock shouted, pushing Victor away and falling back on the couch. "When you were my friend!" He rubbed his face and he just wished this stupid headache would go away. "I love you too, Victor! Just not the same way you love me!"

"Then why did you make me believe you did?!" Victor grabbed him again, intent on doing anything he could to convince Sherlock that he needed Victor and not John. But when he pulled Sherlock up he pulled too hard and their heads smacked together. He lost his footing and his grip on Sherlock as he rebounded from the impact. He fell backwards over the coffee table landing with a hard smack and watched with horror as Sherlock fell over the arm chair and hit his head on the floor. "Shit, Sherlock are you alright?!" Victor grunted and tried to move but he'd sprained his wrist. "JOHN!" Victor shouted. John heard the loud thuds and hurried to dress, struggling slightly as he made his way to the living room. He didn't even bother buttoning his shirt, trying to interrupt the two before something terrible happened. He ran out into the room just in time to watch Sherlock fall and he stumbled forward.

"Sherlock?!" Sherlock hadn't known what happened, one minute he was sitting down and then  _bang_. He'd been flat on the floor and heard someone shouting his name. He felt strong hands on him, pulling him off the floor and sitting him on the couch. His head was spinning and he couldn't see clearly. Were his eyes closed? They were. He forced them open only to find a blonde man, who was clearly a doctor - likely military judging by his movements. He was touching him gently and saying his name as he tried to find out if Sherlock was able to respond. Sherlock's eyes betrayed his confusion as he noted the man's shirt was unbuttoned. He was older, was this one of Victor's 'friends?'

"Victor..." Sherlock said, slurring as he locked eyes with him. Victor was shaking from pain and fear. "You... Look awful. Have you been partying again?" He asked quietly, his voice normalizing. John's body tensed and he swallowed hard. He moved over and got a small flashlight out of his med kit, walking over and gently checking Sherlock's eyes. His gaze was fine. He checked for wounds and found only a small cut on Sherlock's forehead which he gently tended to and bandaged. He then moved over and checked Victor's wrist, splinting it.

"Sherlock are you alright?" John asked quietly, letting his hand rest on his shoulder. Sherlock's eyes met his and John felt like he'd been hit round the head. Sherlock didn't recognize him. His eyes were confused, looking at the man daring to touch him. John's heart fluttered painfully in his chest and he had to force himself to inhale normally.

"I'm fine." Sherlock answered but he winced when he stood up. "Oh, I have a fucking headache from hell." He looked at Victor with a smile. "Did we go out last night or something?" He chuckled. "Christ, I told you this is why I don't like drinking love. The hangovers are worse for me than they are for you." He walked over and gently checked Victor's wrist. "How'd that happen, Vic?" He asked with concern. John was trembling as he stood transfixed, unable to do anything other than watch this horrible nightmare unfolding before him.

_He doesn't recognize me..._

"You... You don't remember?" Victor asked with worry, he could see the emotion shifting in John and it made his own heart ache. His eyes glassed over.

"Of course I don't. You know what's it's like for me when you get me drunk." Sherlock looked around the flat with a confused frown. "Why aren't we back at your flat? Better yet why'd you call a doctor? I'm hung over, that's all." Victor looked to John for help, his eyes wide with fear but the look that met him took fear to new levels. John felt like he'd been hit in the stomach, all the air forced out of his lungs. Fear and terror flooded his chest and his heart, forcing him to sink down on the couch. He used the motion to hide the fact his legs were shaking, but his eyes were wide and he couldn't find his voice.

"C-could be..." John forced out. "Amnesia... Might be temporary..." He closed his eyes for a long time and took five deep breaths, counting slowly as he did. Victor could do nothing but watch as all of the sorrow he'd been feeling - all of that terrible emotion of knowing that Sherlock didn't feel the same ran through John like ice water in his veins. "With a smack that hard to the head... What happened? How did he fall?" John buttoned up his shirt. Victor couldn't even begin to understand how easily John forced his emotion from his voice. How his face was only full of sorrow for a moment before becoming blank. He wanted to move to him, to hold him or do something that would comfort him from the terror that was inside his body. John meanwhile was fighting a wave of terror that threatened to destroy him.

_God please no..._

"Sherlock, what's the last thing you remember?" John asked in his medical tone, his hand the only thing betraying him by shaking. Sherlock looked at the doctor with confusion. Why was he asking such a foolish question like that? Why did he look so emotional? Why was he looking at him like  _that_?

"The last thing I remember is going out." He sighed with annoyance and related it as if it was nothing. "Victor and I went out last night. I thought we agreed to just go to the restaurant not too far from campus but it looks and feels like he dragged me to the club... Again." He sighed looking over at Victor as if he was bored. "Honestly can't we just go out and have one dinner?" Victor looked to John, his own face very pale. Realization flowed through his mind, Sherlock thought they were still at Uni. During his last year when he was moved to a school closer to Mycroft.

"I did take him to dinner, that night. I know exactly what he's talking about. We only went there a few times, but we did go." Sherlock scoffed.

"No, We did not. I would remember if we'd been there more than once Victor." He turned to look around the room before exclaiming: "Hey! What's my skull doing here?" He asked with a smile as he walked over to it sitting on top of the mantel. "This should be back at your flat, why would it be here?" He asked Victor who at lost for words shrugged. Sherlock tuned around again to look at the winded doctor on the couch. "You look very ill to be working as a doctor right now." He surveyed John the way John had watched him look over officers, medical personnel, even witnesses at crime scenes - like he was tiny and unimportant in the scheme of things. Sherlock hadn't even looked at him like that the first time they'd met. It was like a knife in his heart. He wanted desperately to cry in frustration - a very unmanly, undoctorly, and just all around unnecessary thing to have happen right now. He realized that if Sherlock was thinking he was in University it would be most beneficial for him if they played along for now. Victor watched in awe as he forced himself to shove all of his feelings down and stood up. He watched as John proved to him in one easy moment that he was an infinitely better man than Victor could ever be.

"You hit your head Mr. Holmes and because of it you're not remembering things correctly. This is your flat, we're flat mates. I think you should go get some sleep. There is no need for you to worry about me, I'm fine." John said the words firmly but he looked everywhere except at either one of them. "You two should get some rest, you've been having a rough time. I'll check on you again in the morning and make sure you're not too jumbled." John's voice was even but forced, the wall of emotion behind his eyes threatening to swallow him whole. He tried to remind himself this might be temporary. He turned to Victor, walking over and putting a hand on his arm. A hand that Victor grabbed tightly on instinct, desperate to offer him some reassurance. "Since Mr. Holmes doesn't remember what happened most immediately before this happened we'd be better served to keep him in his comfort zone Victor..." His chest shook with a silent sob, a loud coughing fit, and then a bit of a wheeze. Victor could see the thoughts under the surface of that medical mask. He watched as he got the only mirror he would ever see of what it was like to be in his own shoes. He felt the tender feelings that stirred in his heart, urging him to be as kind to John as possible and suddenly he understood Doctor Watson more than anything else could ever have shown him.

_I will go throw myself off the first thing I can find if this proves to be long lasting... I can't... We were...Not now John, wait until he's out of the room...Count to five..._

John knew he had to fight hard to keep his face blank, otherwise Sherlock would be able to completely read it. Victor straightened up as John pulled his hand back.

"Sherlock needs to rest. So do you. Whatever happened that made you two fall was pretty nasty and you both got jostled rather badly. So I'll stay down here in case anything else happens." Sherlock watched John move and he could read the sadness in every movement he made despite the fact he was trying to keep himself blank. He blinked, watching him curiously now. Why would he be upset? He was just a doctor... Unless he was right with his diagnoses and this really was amnesia. That would make sense, he could be someone who knew him. No more than knew him, his actions indicated affection, even love. But that was impossible. If he hit his head the only people who would care would be his brother and Victor. The man moved into the downstairs bedroom and snapped the door closed behind him. Sherlock looked back to Victor his face tightened into a thin line.

"I don't have amnesia. We'll need a second opinion later... How did I fall anyway? I do remember falling but I don't know how it happened."

"You don't need a second opinion. He's one of the best doctors around." Victor said softly, the amount of emotion he'd just watched go through the doctor devouring him from the inside out.

_God I have fucked up big time... If this is permanent..._

"He's right though we should get some sleep. You fell because we were arguing and I grabbed you too hard. I'm not going to party anymore Sherlock. I'm going to get clean and fly straight. I'm not going to do any of that anymore." Victor whispered as he sank down on the couch next to Sherlock. It would be so easy to give in and pretend that this was all real again. His heart quivered in his chest. The thought was tempting but he remembered the look on John's face, how the ache echoed in his own heart. "Your head hurts because you fell, love." He sighed. "That's why the doctor is here. He's your friend, your good friend. What's the last thing you remember?" Sherlock moved close to Victor, resting his head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I remember getting ready to go out." Sherlock explained. "Have you already forgot that it's our anniversary?" He teased Victor with a smile. "We met on this day, well, yesterday, two years ago." He smiled fondly at Victor, running his hand through his hair. "You look awful, Vic. It's like you aged ten years and got hit by a bus." He frowned a bit as he touched his face, his thumb brushing over his lips. "You look sick. Are you alright? Maybe you should talk to that doctor, that is if he's not too emotionally compromised." Sherlock said it as a tease but Victor flinched on John's behalf.

_Shit..._

"Sherly, if that's what you last remember you've hit your head pretty hard then love." Victor took his hand is his own, stopping Sherlock's actions but in a way that would seem like he merely wanted to hold his hand. "I think you need to rest now. I think we should go to sleep." Victor wanted this, he ached for it and it would be so easy to just pretend... But Sherlock would hate him for it more when he came around. And he found himself desperate for that to happen. He was desperate to see Sherlock come back into himself knowing full well the host of emotion that John secreted away in what was their bedroom, must be suffering. Something inside him told him this was wrong. The ache of the drugs came flooding back and he grunted. "I'm sick, Sherly, very sick. But I'm getting better and the doctor is helping me. It'll all make sense after we sleep okay?"

"You sound like my mother, always says things seem better in the morning." Sherlock stood, nervously looking around the living room. "Where is the bedroom?" He asked and when Victor pointed at the stairs Sherlock took them. "Come on, you know I can't sleep alone." He told Victor once he reached the top. He stepped into the small room with a frown. This room wasn't his sort of place and it wasn't Victor's sort either. He recalled Victor's lavish flat that was more like condo, not this sparse, empty, and barely furnished bedroom. He stepped into the bathroom simply because he was curious and once he caught his reflection in the mirror he frowned. He looked... Old. He touched his face, walking closer to the mirror. "Have I always looked this way?" He asked once he heard Victor enter the room. Was the doctor right? Had he forgotten something? He found a flutter of sadness ached in his chest at the thought of how upset the man had been.

"I told you love, you hit your head." Victor repeated. "You don't remember a lot of time that's passed. I'm not trying to be like Mummy Holmes, I'm just trying to look out for you, yea? I know this room isn't much... I can explain in the morning. But you have to listen to me, Sherly. You're sick. You've got the flu and you're hung over - so let's just get some sleep okay?" He was completely lost. He wanted this but it hurt. It hurt because he wanted it so badly and at the same time he knew John was probably sobbing his eyes out right now. He knew that because that's exactly what he would be doing in Sherlock had ever given him that blank look. He felt all wrong and confused, but he knew now he would never lay a hand on Sherlock in anger again. He would get clean because he couldn't ever be the reason someone hurt this much again. He could never forget the look of terror on Sherlock's face as he fell nor the sorrow that enveloped John when Sherlock didn't know him. "You're still handsome as always. Come on stop staring at yourself and let's get some shut eye." He ordered, slipping into the bed.

"Stop saying that, Victor, it's stupid. I don't forget anything." Sherlock insisted as he climbed into the bed. He rubbed his aching head. "I'm fine. I really am but you better damn well get me back to University by Monday. Exams are soon and I don't need to miss anymore classes." He said firmly and when Victor settled he got close to him wrapping his arms around him. "I think I must still be drunk or something because things sort of seem weird and the whole 'you hit your head' thing doesn't make sense." He kissed his cheek before resting his head on his chest with a contended sigh.

"Don't stress about it Sherly, I'll get you where you need to be." Victor said it softly but there was a tone of emotion behind it. He couldn't help the comfort that Sherlock pressed against him gave him though and his arms instinctively went around the detectives lithe body. He made sure to keep his hands in polite places though, so that if Sherlock did remember he wouldn't be at fault. "I hope you sleep well, love." Victor whispered, kissing the top of his head. He closed his eyes as Sherlock sank to sleep, a tear falling for John.

_This is going to rip all of us apart... God I'm an idiot... I'm so sorry John... I'll make this right... No more drugs, I can't do this again..._

"Goodnight..." Victor whispered as he succumbed to sleep.

"Goodnight," Sherlock yawned and nuzzled his face into Victor chest, sighing softly to himself. The things Victor got them into sometimes. They were mad but he didn't care, he liked his company. He loved being around Victor, he was his best friend. He thought about the fact they were dating and sighed again. Maybe it was wrong to be with him that way when he really didn't love him romantically, but he did love him... In a way. Just not the way Victor wanted him to. "See you in the morning." He added before he finally drifted off to sleep.

John, meanwhile, was panting for breath as he entered his and Sherlock's room. As soon as the door closed behind him the damn tears he'd been fighting fell down his cheeks. A full blown panic attack swept over him and he couldn't stop it. He flicked off the light and crawled into the bed, burying his face in the pillows and biting down on his lip hard to stifle the sob that tried to wrestle its' way free of his chest. He coughed and cried and forced his breathing, his entire existence melting down to grief, worry, and sorrow. Sherlock's scent was overwhelming and it brought back that look. The look of Sherlock not knowing him. The look that made him want to cut himself open to bleed out the pain. This pain was so much worse... Worse than anything else.

_This is my fault... I left him alone with Victor. I've done it again because I... He doesn't even know me... Oh God..._

He silently fell utterly apart dissolving under the weight of the emotion. He desperately wanted them to go upstairs, every moment they lingered in the living room was like rubbing salt in the wound. He sat up against the headboard, a pillow clenched in his arms, and he knew he would not willingly sleep. He couldn't let himself sleep because the nightmares would come and now they would be worse than ever. He leaned down into the pillow and clutched at it so hard it might tear.

_No, God please no... Just let me die... It would hurt less._

John finally heard them go upstairs and he quietly exited the bedroom. He couldn't be in there anymore, it was driving him insane. He moved first to his chair in the living room but it was no better than the bedroom. He moved instead into the kitchen, pulling a chair in the corner and wrapping himself tightly into it - so that all he could see was the kitchen. But within ten minutes he started cataloguing all of Sherlock's experiments and tools. It became too much for him again so he opened the door to the stairs and curled up in the corner of the landing, looking blankly at the wall. He curled up as tightly as he could, digging his hands into his palms as he rested his head on his knees and he sobbed quietly.

_I could win him back even if he's forgotten... Not if he never... God I can't do this... I can't..._

He took out his phone, staring at the screen for a long moment. He considered texting Greg or Mycroft to ask for help but he knew better. That would only bring trouble. But he was coming apart at the seams and he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't move from that spot. He didn't uncurl his legs. He didn't even go for a blanket when he started shivering. He simply sat as uncomfortably as possible refusing to let sleep settle over him. His cheeks were stained with tear tracks and as the night wore on more tears came, but he refused to move. His back, knee, and shoulder screamed in pain and resistance but he stayed where he was. He let every sensation of his body built until it was all he could focus on because he couldn't let his mind wander. This was the second worst feeling he'd ever had in his life... The first had been... He whimpered as memories of Saint Bart's tried to press in and take over his thoughts, shuddering with another broken sob. It was all he could do to stay curled up like he was and watch as dawn slowly crept closer.

When Sherlock woke several hours later, just after daybreak his arms were wrapped around someone. He smiled and hugged that warm body more tightly to himself, his smile bursting into a full grin.  _His_  John. His  _fiancé_. He opened his eyes, planning to say something utterly sweet and romantic to John but was shocked to find the person he was hugging was not John.

"Victor!" He shouted with surprise, in his shock to pull away from him he fell off the bed with a loud thud. "Shit, what the hell am I doing up here?" He raged sounding scared and accusatory at the same time. He looked down at himself, at least he was clothed. "Where the hell is John?" He demanded and rounded on Victor. Victor jerked awake and the shear sadness on his face knocked the edge off Sherlock's anger. He looked guilty and broken.

"Sherlock wait a minute okay?!" Victor sat up quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I messed up last night. I grabbed you and you fell and hit your head hard. You thought we were back at Uni! I didn't do anything to you! John said we had to let you tell us how things were because it might hurt you otherwise! You thought we were together. I'm sorry!" He groaned. His head ached and his body hurt. He could only imagine what the last hours had been like for John. "He's probably downstairs waiting for you to wake up to see if you're yourself again." Victor looked wounded, sort of like a child or a puppy. It distracted Sherlock momentarily before his heart sank. If Victor was right John was likely not doing well. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I'm so sorry! I'm not going to ever put my hands on you like that again..." He pulled away, quickly fleeing to give Sherlock space even though he was on the verge of tears. Sherlock stood running down the stairs. He almost fell as he ran because of how badly his body ached.

John was sure he looked like shit. He felt like shit that was for damn sure. But a long night pressed against the railing on the tiny landing just outside their flat wasn't likely good for him. He hadn't moved since he'd gotten himself into the ball he was curled up in and now he was literally quaking with cold. It didn't matter, he wasn't going to move. He was going to stay exactly where he was until Sherlock either remembered or he passed out. He didn't care which. His face was blank, all of the emotion rolling around in his chest having broken the mask he'd been trying to keep up. His phone was locked in his hand in a sort of death grip, cutting into the side of his hand as he held it so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were unfocused and his gaze blank as he simply stared at the wall in front of him. He supposed he would be stronger against this if he hadn't been so sick to begin with but he was desperately ill, exhausted, and consumed with worry. His lips were moving, muttering to himself, but no sound was coming out.

_Maybe... I should... Sleep... No! I can't sleep... It's too hard..._

Sherlock felt panic growing in his chest.

_No. No. He wasn't supposed to hurt me. Victor was never supposed to do that. I trust him. How could he do that to me?_

"John!" He called out loudly, sounding desperate and scared because he was utterly terrified. Victor was never supposed to hurt him, he'd trusted him. Now that trust was crumbling around him. Worse he knew from the look on Victor's face that John had somehow been hurt by all of this. Panic clawed at his chest as he rushed around, trying to find his lover. "John!" He shouted again as he ran straight into the bedroom. The door was open and there were signs that John had been in the bed since Sherlock had left it - but it wasn't warm. He hadn't been there recently. He panted as his mind clicked back into complete normalcy. Christ he could remember it all now, what had happened the night before. Their heads had smashed together and then he fell back on the coffee table. He had hurt him. After everything, he hurt him. The memory of the look on John's face as he looked him over and pronounced he didn't need a doctor made him want to sob. "John!" He shouted again, moving into the kitchen.

"Sher...lock?" John asked softly, his throat too dry to let him speak loud enough for Sherlock to hear him.

He didn't move because he was half convinced he'd gone crazy, his thoughts were so dark throughout the night he'd resigned himself to believing that Sherlock would never remember. His entire body ached and screamed at him, trying to force him to get up and go lay down in bed. He'd been folded up on the landing for five hours and he didn't dare move now. That hadn't been Sherlock's voice, he was just delirious. "Landing." He called out as loudly as he could. Which wasn't very loudly - before dissolving into a very horrible coughing fit that was absolutely terrible. Sherlock heard the coughing coming from the landing and he quickly turned around hurrying over there. When he saw John on the ground his heart sank. Meanwhile upstairs Victor let the tears come and leaned back as the pain rocked through him. This was his fault. He'd done this. He'd attacked Sherlock and caused John to suffer so much. He was absolutely convinced that Sherlock would kick him out now and no matter what John felt about him there would be no convincing him otherwise. He slowly curled deeper into the bed, hiding for the moment and letting himself suffer the feeling Sherlock's anger and disappointment brought him.

John's eyes were bloodshot and it was clear he'd never gone back to sleep. Sherlock could tell that he'd been wrapped up in one position for a long time from the pain on his face. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, his hair was rumpled and looked like he'd tugged at it repeatedly, and his eyes were unable to truly focus on him. John looked up at him, his gaze giving away that he was convinced this was a delusion. Sherlock's heart ached and he trembled as he silently prayed to whatever deity existed that John was okay.

"W-What happened, John?" He asked quietly. His voice breaking as he sank down on the landing beside him. "Why are you out here? You look so sick, John. What happened?" He asked terrified. His pain didn't matter anymore, it was only John that mattered. He cupped his cheeks staring into his eyes. "What's wrong? You've been crying. Oh you've been out here for hours! You're freezing! What's wrong, love?" John reached out, almost shyly to touch Sherlock's face. The motion took all the energy he had and he almost collapsed as Sherlock grabbed his hands. They were like ice and he was shivering from head to toe with cold and exhaustion.

"I... It was too much... You didn't..." His voice was scratchy and dry making it hard for him to speak. "I couldn't sleep... I couldn't be in there." He whispered. He coughed again, his entire body racked by the sound of it. Sherlock was tense and concerned, John was shaking and absolutely ill. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly, trying to push himself to be strong again. He tried to stand and swayed before falling.

"John!" Sherlock shouted with panic as he hurried to catch his stubborn love. "Stop worrying about me right this instant." He ordered harshly as he took a deep breath and lifted John into his arms. "Shit," He hissed when his head gave painful throb. "It's okay, John, I've got you." He assured him as he hurried him into the bedroom. He lay him in the bed before picking up the heating blanket and turning up as high as it would go. "Christ, you're freezing." He muttered before wrapping it around him. The initial terror subsided some but the fear was still there. John's lack of attention to himself could result in him progressing to pneumonia which would require him going to the hospital. Sherlock climbed into the bed next to him, wrapping the covers around them and hugging John tightly to himself. "Don't you  _ever_  ignore yourself for that long  _ever_  again." He ordered darkly before kissing his forehead. John started crying again and could not stop it no matter how hard he tried. It was stupid to cry, he felt stupid for doing it but he'd not had the best five hours. It broke Sherlock's heart to see how utterly broken John was as he cried, it made part of him want to rush upstairs and throttle Victor. John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes almost pleading for some sort of confirmation that this was reality and not some crazy dream.

"I... I couldn't..." He looked away, ashamed of himself. "It hurt so much... You had no idea who I was... It was like you were twenty something again. The way you looked at me..." He forced the words out in a whisper, watching Sherlock's face tighten. He wanted to stop the anger that twitched in his eyes. So he added: "Don't... Be angry... Victor... He was so polite after though. He didn't want to take you upstairs but you were fixated on him as comfort. I'm sorry..." Another coughing fit and a groan. He burrowed under the blankets, hiding as he did. He felt like a child. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not. Well, maybe for not taking care of yourself but we've established we're both idiots when it comes to that." He got under the covers with John, finding his face and kissing it everywhere. Trying to reassure him with every action that this was the truth, that everything would be okay. He even caught a few of his tears in his mouth but he didn't care. He just wanted John to stop sobbing like that. It made him ache. "Hush. You need to stop crying, love. It's making you cough more." He explained softly even as John was rocked by another harsh coughing fit. "Sh I'm alright now. I'm fine." John grabbed Sherlock, though he did so rather weakly, and pulled him into himself. He clung to him almost desperately, coughing and sobbing as he did. Sherlock let him somewhat overwhelmed by the emotional display but knowing that any rejection now might break John completely.

"I never want that again..." He whispered still unable to stop the shaking sobs. "I never want you to look at me and not know me..." He coughed more. "It was almost worse than what happened at St. Bart's... I... I love you." He was too exhausted to check himself. His body utterly wracked by tremors as he spoke. He fell silent for a long time, clinging tightly to Sherlock just to keep him close.

"It won't happen again, I swear, John. I'm sorry it happened in the first place." He rubbed John's back as he sobbed and shook. He started to hum when John finally fell silent. Trying to soothe him in the few simple ways he knew how. "I love you, John. Don't forget that, okay? Even if I don't remember you, it's you I love." He promised, murmuring it over and over until John finally responded.

"I won't..." He whispered softly but sleep was too close. His body giving in to his utter exhaustion as the relief spread through him. It drew him into the comfort of their embrace, Sherlock's warmth lulling him to sleep. He was warm to the touch, despite his shivering. Sherlock's face tight with worry as he surveyed every detail about John in their little blanket bubble. He mumbled something trying to wake himself, which Sherlock realized was because he needed an injection but John couldn't fight the wave of exhaustion. His hand clenched around Sherlock's shirt, like a child would just holding him close. He coughed again, harder than before but didn't fully wake.

"Sh, love. Just sleep." He whispered and once he finally felt John relax, he let out a soft sigh of relief and smiled slightly.

He was alright now. They were both alright now. John hadn't left and Sherlock remembered. John was asleep and near him and nothing could hurt him again. He heard the noises of someone walking around upstairs and frowned at the thought of Victor. Sherlock heard what John said about him being polite and not wanting to take him upstairs. He knew John's intention was to tell him that Victor understood his actions. But he wasn't upset about waking up in bed with Victor. He knew Victor would never take advantage of him like that. No he was upset because Victor had put his hands on him in anger, he injured him, and had caused John to suffer so much grief. He didn't know the right way to proceed from this moment. He wanted Victor to leave so he'd never have to see John cry like this again, but at the same time he knew John had already forgiven Victor which usually meant Sherlock should be more rational about his decision. He decided to start with talking, so he slipped his phone off the bedside table, sitting up out from the blanket bubble and making sure John was still tucked underneath. He sighed and keeping one arm on lump of blanket's that signaled John's presence he began a text to Victor.

_You hurt me, Victor. You were never supposed to do something like that. My brother, Lestrade, everyone aside from John always said you were going to and I never believed them. Then last night you went and did it. And what's worse is you hurt John! Why? Because I was finally talking to you about my feelings? Because I was finally letting myself say the words that I held in my heart? I was trying to do the right thing by you. I was trying to tell you what you deserved to hear. You have a right to hear the words from my mouth - that I'm not in love with you. I never was and never will be. I'll always love you but it's not like I feel for John. You're my best friend and you're lucky that John has already forgiven you because it's convinced me not to kick you out. But I can't promise Mycroft won't show up here with an army and take you away. SH_

John grunted when Victor's phone went off as it was on the nightstand next to John's. He tried to shift himself out from under the blankets, but Sherlock put pressure on him to stop him.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. I forgot he has the phone._

"What?" John asked softly, only half awake. Sherlock slipped his hand back under the blanket, carding his hand through John's hair which caused him to relax. He didn't take long to fall back asleep, at which Sherlock let out another sigh of relief. There was a soft knock on the door, clearly Victor.

"Is John alright?" He asked softly through the door. Sherlock was shocked by the amount of emotion in his voice.

"He's asleep at the moment. Get in here." He hissed in a whisper. It was an order and once Victor stepped into the room Sherlock pointed toward his phone. "You can stay in here if you like but I think it'd be safer if we talk through text. I don't want to wake, John. And I'm sure as hell not leaving him." Victor looked mildly confused but he picked up his phone, he slid down so he was sitting on the floor and read the text.

Sherlock watched with interest and surprise as Victor tried to determine just how peacefully John was sleeping. There was a tightness in his features that betrayed some strong emotion he couldn't quite read. Victor's eyes clearly said he was worried about John and that helped Sherlock remain calm. Victor turned his attention to the text again, reading it a second time before sighing and beginning a reply.

_I don't expect anyone to forgive me for what I did. Not you and definitely not John. I should never have put my hands on you. I was angry and hurt. If Mycroft comes and kicks me out I will go to the rehab clinic. I don't want to be this way anymore Sherlock. What happened was bad... And the pain he was in... VT_

John shifted slightly, grabbing the edge of Sherlock's shirt and clutching it tightly, still deeply asleep. Sherlock was distracted from reading Victor's face by John's actions but he did see how Victor tensed and wanted to offer John comfort himself.

"Sh." He whispered to John, thinking he must be having some sort of nightmare to be clutching him so tightly. "It's okay, John. I'm here. I'm right here." He said soothingly.

_I can't even imagine what sort of emotional pain he was in, Victor. I only saw the toll it took on him physically. Which was awful. Do you know what he went through? SH_

_No... I slept because you were with me. I didn't get up. VT_

_He was freezing on the floor OUTSIDE the flat on the landing all night, he didn't even sleep he just sat there on the landing curled up in a little ball! Because he couldn't bear to be here in our house. Because he couldn't handle the fact that I didn't even know him after what you did. Look, Victor I'm still upset with you. I always trusted that you would never hurt me, but I do forgive you. I forgive you mostly because John forgives you - but I forgive you all the same. I want you to stay here but if we end up arguing every time we talk about our... Friendship this is going to be a lot harder on everyone. SH_

Sherlock watched the pain that fluttered across Victor's face as he pictured what John must have looked like on the landing all night. He saw him start to get up and stop himself, an action Sherlock took to mean he intended to somehow comfort John. Sherlock wondered for a moment about that, listening to the soft sound of John breathing as silence fell and Victor replied to his message.

_God he's really torn up isn't he? What have I done? VT_

_Look Sherlock, I know what I did was wrong. I... When you start telling me that you don't love me it's like I lose my mind and this other person takes over. It hurts like hell to see that you don't love me. It hurts me to think about the fact that he is going to get to sleep in that bed with you every day for the rest of his life and I won't. I did things all wrong with you. Wrong and backwards and I realized it too late... I never meant to hurt you... VT_

Victor shook with pain and what might have been a sob but it was hard for Sherlock to tell from where he was sitting. Victor was watching Sherlock as they sent the texts back and forth but his attention also kept returning to where John was huddled under the blankets, only his wrist visible where it held onto Sherlock's shirt. Victor felt a horrible guilt sliding around in his chest and stomach. Was it true? He really sat on the floor, outside his own flat all night? His mind flicked back over the entire scene the night before, how easily John had just bowed down and let Sherlock go with Victor because it was what Sherlock needed in the moment. Everything that man did was for Sherlock - even letting Victor come stay with them and trying his hardest to help him. Suddenly in that moment Victor truly understood everything about how Sherlock felt for John. He started to wonder, instead of finding his own Sherlock he, in that moment, began to wonder if he would ever find his  _John_.

_Christ I'm an ass. That man is incredible..._

_God he really loves you doesn't he? VT_

John mumbled something shifting as he did, before another coughing spell shook him. Sherlock turned his attention to him, dropping his phone in his lap as he did. But the feel of Sherlock laying so close to him and the grip on his shirt kept John in his peaceful slumber.

"Sh, it's okay John." Sherlock whispered on instinct as the coughing fit rocked John's body. He rubbed his back trying to sooth him through it. Once the coughing spell ending, Sherlock glanced over at Victor again to see tears in his eyes. His heart gave a painful ache as he texted him back.

_Yes. He does. But, I know you do too. And I'm sorry I never felt the same. But you do mean a lot to me. Do you know that before you I never had any friends? Not even when I was a kid, Victor. You were the only one. You are my best friend and I hate to see you in pain because of me. I know you never meant to hurt me and I never meant to hurt you this way either. I hope that with time I can figure out some way to make it up to you. I had thought helping you get clean would do it but now I think I'll have to do something else for all the pain I have caused you. SH_

_I knew that you didn't have friends, you told me that before. You don't owe me anything, Sherlock. Still being my friend is more than I deserve. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, you can't predict who will fall in love with you. I will just have to learn to be happy that you have someone who loves you that much. He's better than me and I can see that now. I am so sorry I hurt you, that is one thing I never wanted to do in my life. VT_

Victor looked down at his hands, away from Sherlock. He let out a soft sigh.

_He's a good man, I'm glad he got through to you. VT_

John's phone chimed and he sat almost straight up, making both of the other men jump with surprise. It hurt him to do so and caused a coughing fit, but John was hyper alert. He fumbled for the phone for a moment, having trouble getting it in his hand. His brain was fogged over from the lack of sleep and the deep illness but he still tried to focus. Victor made a move as if he was going to get up and stop John, actually getting to his feet. Sherlock tensed and his mouth tightened into a thin line.

_John, I have just been informed about the incidents last night. Report. MH_

"John, don't even reply to that." Sherlock whispered trying to grab the phone from him. He already knew it was his brother and he did not want to deal with that now. But John yanked his phone out of reach and continued to text his reply to Mycroft. Sherlock sighed and moved toward the edge of bed to look at Victor. "Don't degrade yourself." He ordered softly. "You're brilliant and I am going to be here to help you get clean, okay? Even if my brother somehow makes you leave I... We will come visit you at the clinic." He looked back to John only to find him still texting, he hummed in displeasure. "John, you should be resting. I'll deal with him. Just tell Mycroft to text me." Sherlock insisted, but John didn't even respond. He wasn't ignoring Sherlock he just did not have the mental capacity to multitask at the moment.

_Christ, when did he become the one taking care of the two of them?_

_Mycroft, I appreciate the concern but we're fine. Sherlock and Victor had a disagreement and Sherlock got a bit of a bump on the head. He forgot what year it was for a bit. Everyone was polite and appropriate and we're fine. Please don't do anything rash. JW_

_John, you're an idiot. I have given you two a lot of courtesy on this situation why should I continue to extend it to Victor when he has hurt my brother? Also why in the Queen's name did you spend the night on the landing? MH_

_That is none of your business. And you should give Victor a chance because what happened last night has been the one thing that finally got through to his drug addled brain. Seriously Mycroft, if you come in now you'll compromise Sherlock more than anything else. We're grown men, let us handle this for once. JW_

_If I see anything like this again... MH_

_Seriously Mycroft, stop it. You're not our father. JW_

John grunted and ran a hand over his face. He couldn't have been sleeping long. He seemed to become aware of the fact that both of the other men were staring at him with concern and he flushed slightly. He turned to look at them both in turn and saw the look on Sherlock's face.

"Yes, Sherlock, I should rest but I have to give you an injection and we both need to take our flu medication again. How are you both feeling?" Sherlock sighed as doctor mode came back. He'd never understand how John could get less than thirty minutes of sleep after not sleeping the entire night and in this case while practically being annihilated by the flu and just pretend his was perfectly normal again. Then again it was probably his fault, after all when he was on a case he didn't sleep for days. John always tried to keep up with him and now here they were, three idiots trying to be the death of each other - all for  _sentiment_.

"Like shit." Victor sighed. "So am I being hauled off?" He moved closer to the bed but stopped short of actually sitting on it.

"Not if I can help it." John smirked slightly but coughed again, looking up to meet Victor's gaze. "We're all adults here. I know what happened was bad and it means I'm not going to be leaving the two of you alone together any time soon but if Sherlock doesn't want you gone then Mycroft has no right to make that decision. This is our flat, we pay the rent." He leaned over and put his head on Sherlock's shoulder without thinking about it. Sherlock smiled softly and carded his hands through John's hair.

"I should let you rest... I can go to my room or something." Victor said softly and started for the door. Sherlock frowned, he had half a mind to suggest that Victor just sleep with them but he figured that be crossing too many lines. But it was a half strangled noise from John that made Victor stop. Both of them turned to look at him and blushed slightly.

"Sherlock you never told me how you're feeling." He forced out, trying to cover over the fact that somewhere in his completely addled brain he had almost suggested that Victor stay with them.

"I'm fine, John." Sherlock said quickly, lying on instinct because he didn't want to think about how awful he felt. He looked down at his shaking body and tried to pretend it was nothing. "Both of you stop looking at me like that, I'm fine." He said trying to laugh but it turned into an awful cough. John got up and got the flu medication and the injections. Victor followed him right out of the room, shadowing him intently as he walked around the flat. John was a little surprised but he didn't say anything, afraid of upsetting Victor. Sherlock however smirked to himself as he watched the two of them go. So that was how it would be now...

_Oh John, you brilliant idiot..._

Victor was one step behind John as he went into the living room and gathered up the med kit, and detox medicine, and the flu medication before heading into the kitchen. John made three glasses of water which Victor took from him instantly, setting them on a tray to take in the bedroom.

"I'm so very sorry John." He whispered as they entered the kitchen, not realizing he was rather close to John as he spoke.

"It's all alright now, right?" John asked hopefully, gently putting a hand on his arm.

"I think so, yea." Victor gave him a half smile. He didn't pull away this time and they lingered for a few seconds longer than they should have before Sherlock called out at them to find out what was taking them so long. They returned to the bedroom and John prepped the injection for Sherlock before giving him the flu medication. Victor stood there with a pill in his hand for John silently demanding he take it before he lay back down.

"It's freezing in here." Sherlock pouted, trying to convince John to snuggle closer to him.

"Hm..." John mused. "We've only got one heating blanket." He looked up at Victor before turning to look at Sherlock. "It's big enough for the whole bed down here though..." He said it with purpose and Sherlock's eyes went round as plates. John couldn't be suggesting  _that,_  could he?

"I'm not cold." Victor said hastily and John fixed him with a piercing stare. Victor shivered but pretended it was nothing. "Really, I'm fine." He said dismissively. John laughed.

"None of us will get better at this rate. Sherlock - you're not well, I'm not well, Victor's not well. Let's all stop lying okay?" John sighed and sank down in the bed. "Sherlock, do you want Victor to stay in here with us?" Victor was hovering in the doorway, not really sure what to do with himself. When John asked that question he froze and flushed a shade of crimson. Sherlock frowned, his eyes locking on Victor's in the doorway. He wanted him to stay, he enjoyed being close to him. He also though it would show that he still cared about him. He looked back to John his heart pounding out of fear and if he was truly honest a bit of excitement that John had even put forth the question.

"Would that be okay with you? If he did?" He asked softly because what mattered most to him was making sure John was comfortable. John blushed just slightly and Sherlock had to fight not to laugh. "I don't want to do something you're not comfortable with, the same goes for you Victor." He added, looking over at his friend with a soft smile. Victor looked torn between confusion and the excitement of a child at Christmas.

"It's alright with me, love. So long as hands stay where they're supposed to." John said with a smirk but dissolved into a very horrid coughing fit. His lungs rattled slightly.

"That really doesn't sound good." Victor whispered, stepping into the room and looking at the two of them with wide eyes. "You two are mad, you know. Absolutely stark raving mad."

"You're not telling us anything we don't know Victor." John smirked and lay down, pulling Sherlock so he was closer to him. The move done simply to make more room in the bed.

"Sherlock... A-are you sure?" Victor hesitated. He was almost afraid of himself. Afraid touching Sherlock would somehow hurt him again. Sherlock blushed at the comment about hands. Of course hands would stay where they should. When John crawled into the bed, he got as close to him as possible, trying to show Victor that he truly did want to be there. He looked to Victor with a reassuring smile. Sherlock lay on his back and John pressed into him, the two of them looking over at Victor with reassuring smiles.

"Of course, I am. It will be like a sleepover." He said with a laugh but it turned into a deep rattling cough. "Oh, I need to stop laughing." He said with a wince.

"A sleep over?" Victor asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Only the weirdest sleepover I've ever been to." Victor said softly and sighed as he slipped in on the opposite side of Sherlock from John. He lay flat on his back, not wanting to do anything to make either of them uncomfortable.

"Just relax, Vic. If you think too much he'll keep us all awake." John said softly, but he was already half asleep again. He looked content, a smug smirk on his face as he claimed his victory.

"Let's just hope he doesn't kick us both out of the bed when he spreads out, yea?" Victor smirked, teasing Sherlock and laughing as Sherlock flushed slightly.

"Oh shut up," Sherlock said with a smile, kicking Victor on purpose. Not too hard but enough to let Victor know he was serious. "I don't kick." He said, fully convinced he didn't. "And before you even start, I don't sleep walk either, John." He said firmly to his lover but he was already asleep. "Goodnight love." He whispered, giving him a peck on the cheek. He looked back to Victor smiling at him. He actually felt surprisingly comfortable here in this moment. He'd always felt comfortable with John and Victor individually but having both of them made him feel absolutely wonderful. "Are you feeling any better?" He asked hopefully.

"In some ways, yea." Victor said softly, hearing John's breathing drop as he settled into a deeper sleep. "It's much warmer here that's for sure." He gently reached out, carefully, and put his hand on Sherlock's chest just below his shoulder. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I really am. For all of this. For bringing you into this whole mess and for making him hurt so much. Thank you for having faith in me."

"You're welcome. I know things haven't been easy for either of us, but if it wasn't for you I don't think I would have met John." Sherlock whispered, a bright smile on his lips. "You've always been there for me... I thought it was time I was there for you." He explained with a shrug. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh once he heard John actually start to snore. "He does that when he's in a really deep sleep." He whispered to Victor with a smile that said: this is the most wonderful thing in the world.

"Sherlock..." Victor whispered, scooting closer to him so as not to wake John. "Do you think I can get clean? And when I do, if I can get a job... Well you two don't need that other room now right?" He blushed a bit. John shifted slightly, closing the tiny gap left between himself and Sherlock. His hand snaking over Sherlock's stomach and coming to rest so it was also on Victor's arm. Sherlock giggled at the confused yet content look Victor's face once John touched him.

"Never stops taking care of us." He whispered to Victor with an amused smile but he let it fall as he answered Victor seriously. "Victor, if I can get clean, you can. And you're more than welcome to stay here as long as you like." He gave Victor a peck on the cheek. "You'd be a great flat mate and honestly John and I need someone here to keep us dressed. We'd stay naked all day if we could." He chuckled.

"Ha! You mean you'd stay naked all day and keep him naked too if you could," Victor smirked but he blushed slightly as John's fingers idly started rubbing his forearm. "He really isn't ordinary. I will get clean, Sherlock. For me... And for you two."

"He's wonderful." Sherlock said, leaning into John with a fond smile. "But so are you, and I'm going to help you get clean. So is John. And once you are we'll find you a job. We'll get you back into school if you want. And maybe you can become the person you were meant to be in the first place."

"For the first time in years I believe that." Victor sighed. "Can... Can I touch him?" He asked blushing. When Sherlock agreed he laced his fingers with John's, pushing their hands back to rest on Sherlock's stomach just above his belly button. John mumbled something softly but it wasn't clear what. "Sleep loves." He whispered back.

"Goodnight, Victor." Sherlock said with a sweet smile. He rested his head on Victor's shoulder and enjoyed the delicious feeling of these two impossible men - the only two to ever move him towards any type of sentiment were cuddled against him. "Pleasant Dreams, the both of you." He yawned one last time before drifting off himself into a deep sleep. He knew he wouldn't have any nightmares this time, not under the guard of his two favorite people.

Victor didn't fall asleep right away, instead choosing to take in every detail of the moment before allowing himself to succumb to sleep. He knew he was insanely lucky to even be still in the flat, let alone to be here cuddled up in bed with the two of them. He shifted some so Sherlock would be more comfortable against his shoulder, watching how John followed him to stay close to Sherlock. He tried to pull his hand back but John grunted and pulled so that their hands remained exactly where they were on Sherlock's stomach. He then, still asleep, started rubbing his thumb over Victor's palm, the effect of which was what finally drove Victor into a deep restful sleep unlike any he'd had in years.

John woke many hours later. His mind slowly pulling itself from sleep without really wanting to. He'd barely opened his eyes when he blushed realizing he and Victor were holding hands and sandwiching Sherlock in the process. He felt Victor's thumb swipe over his hand and he just barely shifted his gaze up to meet Victor's eyes. Victor had only recently woken himself, but hadn't moved an inch because he didn't want to break the magic of the moment. Both of them were silent for a long time, simply cuddling in closer to the deeply sleeping detective.

"I don't think we should wake him." Victor whispered to John. "He rarely ever gets this much sleep." He pointed out as he gazed down at Sherlock's sleeping form, he looked truly peaceful and innocent like this. Content and happy, his sentiment easily read on his face. Victor realized he and John were still holding hands and he truly hoped they wouldn't have to let go yet. He enjoyed this. Being near the both of them. It was amazing to be near Sherlock at all but to be near someone who loved Sherlock too, it made him feel like he wasn't completely alone. Especially now that he knew the depths of what John felt. John understood him and still cared enough to want to make things easier for him. "He keeps talking in his sleep. Saying your name mostly." He added with soft giggle. "He has said my name once or twice, though." John smiled and without really thinking about it he gently squeezed Victor's hand.  
"Yea he does." He mostly mouthed. He smiled broadly. This was all so strange and yet deeply satisfying for him. Victor knew what it was like, what it was like to love the mad man lying between them. He understood it on a level no other person in the world could. It was deeply satisfying to know he now had someone to talk to. He knew if they got up Sherlock would wake and he was really quite comfortable and didn't feel as sick for the moment so he just let himself remain there. Rubbing the back of Victor's hand and feeling the warmth of Sherlock between them. "He's pretty deeply asleep, for real this time." He whispered. Victor felt his cheeks warm at the sight of John's smile. He also felt those terrible butterflies at the pit of his stomach but he tried to ignore them as nuzzled Sherlock's hair with his nose.

"He is," he agreed. "He rarely sleeps like this. I think in all the years I've known him he's hardly ever slept like this. He's always had trouble with sleeping. Even when he was kid. He told me that even when he was little that he was afraid of sleeping because he thought a monster would get him in sleep..." He smirked. "I have no idea why I'm telling you this because he's probably already told you..." Victor frowned and stopped stroking John's hand so he could rub Sherlock's stomach for just a moment. Sherlock let out a soft, sleepy sigh and snuggled into the two of them a bit more - making both of them blush. "After that he said it was nightmares that kept him up, well that and the fact that he thought sleep wasn't important. It was just fuel to keep his body running so his mind could function."

"It's all transport." John whispered and the two lapsed into silent giggles.

"Yea, that." Victor grinned. He grabbed John's hand again and laced their fingers together like they'd been before. John felt himself blush slightly because he had been rather upset when Victor had taken his hand away. Suddenly he was rather nervous, there were those fluttering feelings in his stomach.  
"I'm glad you decided to stay." He whispered not really sure what his mind was doing. "It's nice to have someone who... Understands." He blushed a bit more, meeting Victor's gaze again. "I hope you will let me help more now." He looked down at their hands with a small smile and wondered if it made Victor feel as content to touch John as it made John feel to touch him. His heart belonged to Sherlock but he couldn't deny that Victor's touch was pleasant and calming. Victor looked away from John, a shy smile on his lips. He didn't know why he was so warm and happy. Part of him felt like it was because he was close to Sherlock, but he another part of him whispered that John was rather a factor in that warm fuzzy feeling as well.

"I will. I mean... You're my doctor. It'd be stupid to argue with my doctor." He said with a terrible blush on his cheeks but he tried to hide it by burying his face in Sherlock's shoulder. John gave a slight cough as he turned rather red himself.  
"Of course it is." He whispered but he also let his head rest on Sherlock. His stomach was fluttering.

_Oh Christ..._

His fingers stroking Victor's hand gently and he knew somewhere in the pit of his stomach he was treading water in a strange new territory. Well new only in that he'd gone from never looking at a man for physical comfort and touch like this to being cuddled in bed with two men like it was just another day. Victor and John both started to sink back to sleep, the warmth of Sherlock pulling them back to that safe and comfortable place. John fought it because his thoughts were racing over the potential dangers of this new sensation but if he was completely honest with himself it really was just like any other moment with Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more explanation now that you have read the chapter! 
> 
> What John is feeling is the potential stirrings of what could, if he let it, become love. Basically a crush. he feels this because Victor understands him in a way Sherlock can't. 
> 
> Sherlock simply enjoys being the center of both their attentions and has always found Victor physically appealing but not romantically. 
> 
> Victor loves Sherlock but has come to understand that he is not ever going to have his heart. So he basically takes what he can get. 
> 
> However the entire dynamic is temporary, setting up some of the angst on the sequel.
> 
> Hope that makes sense without ruining anything!


	10. Threes the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Victor has become closer in the last few months and haven't known that Sherlock has been baiting them. When he finally gets what he wants will it prove to be more than he was ready for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the last full chapter! This chapter includes smut and m/m/m action just so you're warned.
> 
> Victor is played mostly by Cay in this chapter.

                During the next few months things went really well for the trio at Baker Street. Sherlock and Victor managed to stay clean and hadn't even been tempted to relapse. John had helped them both through the withdrawals, using whatever means he had available to him. Which usually meant ending up in a sweaty, messy heap with Sherlock or sitting quietly with Victor a hand on his shoulder and keeping him grounded as he worked through the pain. It took about a month but Sherlock and John started working on cases again, while Victor went to work as a personal assistant for Mycroft. Really Sherlock had pushed Mycroft to give Victor the job which Mycroft had absolutely resisted until he realized Sherlock would not stop texting him at any hour of the day or night until he relented. Victor for his part was enjoying the job. It was fairly easy, paid well, and Mycroft actually began to give him a bit more trust. It had taken a full four months before Victor felt he was strong and clean enough to approach his father. He used all the confidence he could manage to prepare himself for a rejection but it had actually gone wonderfully. His father, so happy to see that Victor had gotten clean on his own and was working again offered him a position in his own company. Something that would allow him to begin working on the ground floor and climb the ladder to his rightful position as a full member of the company. Victor had readily agreed and attended a celebratory dinner with his mother and father before racing back to Baker Street, brimming with happiness - to inform the boys. The only problem was once he'd thrown himself up the stairs and into the living room only John was there, sitting a little blankly on the couch.

                                "Where's Sherlock? I thought you two were working on a case." He said as he hung up his jacket, loosened his tie and removed his coat. Victor's health had come back in leaps and bounds under John's careful care and he looked so much better now. His muscles were coming back, the dark circles no longer lived under his eyes, and he was beginning to look the way he imagined he would after University. John smirked and motioned for Victor to join him on the couch, grinning as he did.   
                                "He ran off chasing a lead, forgetting I can't keep up with him. He was gone before I got to the end of the street and since I have yet to get a text or anything I just came home. He'll figure it out soon enough. But look at you! You're smiling, it looks good on you." He grinned as he teased. It had been amazing how much he and Victor had bonded over the last few months. Victor had been an anchor in the sea of Sherlock's insanity. Case after case had come in and with Sherlock stuck in case mode it had been nice to have someone else on the same wavelength to watch movies with, get dinner with, and just be around. "He'll likely pop in, in an hour or so and offer to whisk me to dinner to make up for forgetting about me. Or else cursing at me because he's been telling me important information and I won't remember any of it." John let himself look Victor over closely, he looked a lot lighter. "So what brought you flying up the stairs?" Victor moved to sit next to John, his hands practically shaking with delight. He hadn't been this happy in a long time. He was happy, well content really because he was here with Sherlock and John. He'd developed a strange relationship with them, not really a lover but not really not either. He'd had John, Sherlock, his improving health, a job, and a new lease on life... But now, now he had all of that and his family back. He smiled brightly at John, ignoring the familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

                                "I told you guys I was going to go see my father today." He began, nervously untucking his shirt so he could completely relax. "I um... Well I did and it went really well. He offered me a job with the company and then we went to dinner with my Mum." He sounded truly ecstatic and it was because he was. He never thought this would happen.  Sure John and Sherlock both had told him it would, John more often in those long nights the two of them had spent lying on the couch waiting for Sherlock to reappear from some case - but he hadn't truly believed it.

                                "That's incredible!" John smiled broadly and without even thinking pulled Victor into a hug. "Congratulations!" He grinned and slowly moved to pull back, but he did so reluctantly. He blushed a bit. He forgot that he and Victor had to carefully negotiate their touches because it had become clear shortly after Sherlock's amnesia spell that the two of them were a bit fond of each other. He coughed slightly and looked down. "That really is amazing Victor. I'm proud of you." Victor blushed a bit, nervously rubbing at warm cheeks trying to pretend he had caused the blush himself. He reminded himself again that Sherlock and John were engaged and that Sherlock did not share.

                                "Thank you, John." He said, still smiling just as brightly. "That means a lot. I've been trying to make you and Sherlock proud... And to make myself proud." He added with a laugh. "But now that I have this job I'll be able to get my own flat soon." He said it quickly and then saw how John's face fell.  He felt a pang of sadness in his chest. "I mean I need to. Since you and Sherlock got engaged, you'll need your space. And maybe it won't be long before you two will adopt a child." He said with a honest smile. He really was happy for them. The pain he felt for getting to have either of them was nowhere near as bad as it used to be. Of course he would be sad not to curl up in the bed with them when it was really cold in the flat, or to cuddle with John on the couch on those long nights where they were both bothered by nightmares - but they had their life and he needed to live his own.

                                "Oh I don't know about that. I don't know how Sherlock feels about children. It's not really something we've discussed at this point." John tried to say it dismissively but there was clear disappointment in his voice. He looked down. "You'll still come visit, right?" He nervously looked back up. Victor swallowed hard and looked away, his cheeks still flushing red. John told himself to breathe, this emotion was unbecoming of someone who was looking toward marriage. It wasn't that he was unhappy with Sherlock because he wasn't - but Sherlock didn't cuddle. Sherlock didn't offer a hug when John was drenched to the bone because he'd followed him straight into a rain storm. Those were Sherlock things...

                                "Of course. You two are my best friends. I can't just stop coming to see you. I mean I am going to be Sherlock's best man. I hoped that would mean I would get to be the God father of any little ones you do have." John looked at him like he'd lost his mind. There was no way Sherlock Holmes wanted a child. Let alone multiple. At the look on John's face Victor rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, he secretly loves kids. He's never told _you_ but he loves them. You'd tease him relentlessly if he told you. But if you ever go to the store with him and there happens to be a little baby sitting in the shopping cart, he makes silly faces at them until they smile. He'll try to make sure you don't catch him doing it, but he does it all the same. He always told me that's how he knew he wanted to be a father. Because when they smiled at him it made him feel this aching need to have one of his own. Just because he thinks he'll be an awful father doesn't stop him from wanting to be one."

                                "He goes to the grocer?" John asked with a snort of laughter, the two of them dissolving into a fit of giggles for a few minutes. When they finally stopped laughing he looked a little more serious. "Well if he ever does decide he wants them you will definitely be the Godfather." John smiled, he felt a pang of sadness though at the thought of Victor leaving. He looked down. He'd gotten used to Victor being there and the casual touches that had helped him stay strong when Sherlock was distant because of brooding or a case. But it was selfish to want Victor to remain there, to stunt his personal growth. He smiled. "I'm really glad this happened for you, Vic. It's good to see you doing so well." He barely met Victor's eyes because every time he did he wanted to cuddle him. His mind flashing back to a month ago when Sherlock had abandoned John to follow a clue and John had gotten caught in the rain on the way home. John had been miserable, cursing about how he was going to catch a cold as he trudged home. He'd arrived back at Baker Street utterly soaked to the bone only to find that Victor had seen him coming down the street and found clean clothes, a towel, a large fluffy blanket, and put tea on. Victor met him on the stairs and wrapped him immediately in the towel, forcing him into the bathroom to change and setting up a blanket nest on the couch in which the two of them had cuddled together - on the pretense of keeping John warm - until they'd heard Sherlock on the stairs. He blushed slightly, feeling ashamed. "What should we do until he gets back? Do you want to go out a celebrate or something?"

                                "We both know he'd be jealous if I took you out all by myself. He'd either murder us or destroy the restaurant in question." Victor said with a chuckle and he shook his head. "Maybe later though when we can all go. Besides he'll want to take you to dinner when he gets back... He's been planning it for a week. He has a surprise for you." Victor said with a wicked grin. He'd helped Sherlock pick out John's ring a few weeks ago and Sherlock had mentioned giving him his ring on this particular evening. "A very nice, very expensive surprise." He giggled.

                                "That's not very secret Vic." John blushed and laughed. "But he's not the only one with a gift." He instinctively reached in his pocket and ran a finger over the small box. He'd been carrying it in his pocket for several days, unsure of when to give it to the detective. "Likely more expensive than the gift I got him." John put his hand on Victor's arm. "I'm glad you stayed here with us. Things have been amazing."

                                "I'm glad I stayed too. I haven't been this happy in a long time." He confessed. He considered his next move carefully, looking towards the stairs and straining to listen. He didn't hear anything so before he let his mind get the better of him he leaned against John, resting his head on his shoulder. "If I hadn't stayed I don't think you and I would be so close." He said quietly his own voice sounding a bit breathless. John slowly wrapped his arms around Victor, before pulling him closer. The two of them relishing the small comfort of the touch. He leaned his head down on Victor's.   
                                "I know we wouldn't be and that would have been terrible. When you first came you were important to him, that's why I wanted to help... But over time you've become so important to me Vic." He whispered, blushing as he did.

                                "We really should stop cuddling when he's not around like this. We're always so cuddly when he's gone." Victor said but he was giggling like an idiot just because being near John simply made him feel like he was floating. "He's going to find out we like to do this if we're not careful and it might be bad if he did." He whispered with a wicked grin.

                                "I think he already knows, but he has never actually said anything. He just makes little statements about how I'm not trying to cuddle him to death or demanding to know why I'm not clinging to him." John whispered, flushing with a bit of guilt but not really wanting to let go. It was just hugs, it wasn't like he was snogging Victor."I like holding you though... It feels comfortable." Without thinking he slid his hands through Victor's hair. "And it makes you relaxed and happy. I'm supposed to keep you happy when he isn't around, those were his orders." He grinned, looking down at Victor as the two of them giggled. "But I will miss our moments like this..." He turned redder but didn't look back up.

                                "Me too." Victor confessed, his heart pounding as he pressed his lips to John's cheek. He watched as John turned even more violently red. That was the most Victor had ever done to him. It had all started harmlessly, when John kissed Victor's forehead a month ago while Victor had a nasty cold. Victor had returned the sentiment with a chaste kiss on the cheek, which he sometimes repeated when he had the confidence that Sherlock wasn't hiding somewhere nearby. Victor found himself lingering over John's lips again, desperate to know what they would feel like against his own but that would be too far. "I seriously may have to call you and Sherlock to come sleep in my flat with me the first few nights." He whispered rubbing his nose into John's neck and finally wrapping his arms around him. "I'm not used to sleeping alone anymore." He could feel John blushing still and he giggled as his mind drifted through his memories. "Do you remember the night Sherlock didn't come home from that fungus murder case until almost dawn? When you and I spent the night together, just laying in bed in our pajama's talking until we passed out. I'll miss that." He admitted. John blushed and his heart fluttered. He instinctively tightened his arms around Victor. He remembered that night well, it was the first case he and Sherlock had taken after Sherlock's relapse. Sherlock had of course taken off to do experiments at St. Bart's, telling John dismissively he didn't need his help he could go home.  
                                "I do. It was the first time I didn't have a nightmare without him around." He admitted in a soft voice, nuzzling closer to Victor. The two were rather like cats, craning for each other's warmth."I know I will come stay at least but I am sure he will too. Whenever you need either of us we will be there." He closed his eyes enjoying Victor's scent and warmth. He blushed more but sighed happily, Sherlock could be angry with him as much as he liked. But John needed this. He needed someone who would let him touch them for long periods of time, someone who would let him pull them close and hug them, someone who was softer around the edges. Victor lifted his head feeling particularly bold because of John's actions and checked to make sure he didn't hear Sherlock coming up the stairs. He smiled at the silence and pushed his away into John's lap like a puppy. He'd done it a few times before because he liked being close to John as possible. He knew that it might cause a problem if Sherlock ever came in and caught them but he fancied himself smart enough to be sure that didn't happen. Besides being held made him feel safe and relaxed and John was the only one of the two who seemed to like to hold him for long periods of time. He'd tried several times to cuddle with Sherlock but he'd just been met with rejection.

                                "I hope you don't mind me being this close." He whispered and he honestly meant it. Usually he didn't get this close but he knew that soon they wouldn't be able to do this. 

                                "You know I don't mind, you also know that I will face the storm if it comes. Sherlock should at least be smart enough to understand that I'm his, but he doesn't cuddle." John confessed softly, blushing. He held Victor close settling back so the two of them were comfortable. "We have both wanted to be close like this again for awhile, I don't think we've sat like this since you had that cold." He pulled Victor down so his head rested on his chest, sort of like a child, leaning his own head down on top of his as they cuddled together. John sighed happily, letting his eyes flutter closed and fighting the pang that this might be one of the last times they could do this.  "I'm so glad I met you Victor. You really have changed my life."

                                "I'm glad I met you too." Victor whispered, one of his hands moving up to play with John's hair that was almost as nice as Sherlock's. Victor felt that same thrill of danger in his chest. He knew he was pushing his limits, usually he only asked John for one type of contact - today he wanted them all. "You made me better, you and Sherlock both. But you really helped me. You cared about every little detail. Like the night I was having that awful withdrawal, Sherlock was off at Saint Bart's working on something but you, you stayed right here and held me through it. Even facing his wrath when he came home angry you hadn't answered his texts." He smiled fondly at the memory. "It was awful but you made it all seem so much better. Just like I'm sure you did for him." He nuzzled his face into John's chest, trying to memorize the way he smelled. John shuddered and sighed softly surprised by the nose against his shirt and the fingers in his hair. He'd come to truly love either of them touching his hair and scalp, sometimes it made him feel like a puppy who was getting his head scratched in praise but it always made him melt. He tightened his arms around Victor a little more, sighing contentedly again as he breathed in that somewhat spicy smell Victor carried.   
                                "I couldn't watch you hurt like that. Those withdrawals were how I learned how important touch was for you. That was when I first talked to Sherlock about this. When he encouraged me to start giving you more hugs. It made me happy to be the one to help you. I... I love holding you." He barely breathed the words, blushing more. "I always have. Since I first touched your arm and felt you relax, even though you pulled away." Victor closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from tearing up at the thought of never getting to do this again.

                                "Yea, I remember him telling you to give me all the hugs he never had." Victor sighed a tear falling. "Sherlock never liked holding me. He likes to be the focus of attention, to be the one being held - whenever he finally decides that's okay. Every time I tried to get him to hold me he'd get bored after a few minutes." Victor chuckled, "Which is fine, he wouldn't be him if he didn't get bored." He continued to run his fingers through John's hair, his lips moving to his cheek once again. "I love being held by you." He confessed, fearing that saying that was too much to admit. "I really do John and I have no idea how I am going to go on without it."  John sighed softly, biting his lip. Victor watched the motion closely, his eyes focused on John's face.

                                "I wish I didn't have to give this up." He whispered, clenching his eyes shut. "Sometimes when he is in case mode this was the only thing that kept me sane. When he would shout at and berate me because I needed him to show me even a little affection but he was so gone in his mind... There you were..." He blushed and kissed Victor's forehead before nuzzling his head against his hair. They were effectively curled into a Victor and John ball. 

                                "Call me. Whenever he gets like that just call me and I'll be right here to keep you sane." Victor swore, his arms wrapping back around John and holding him tightly. "I will always be here for you, John. Whenever you need me. It's not nearly enough to repay you for what you've done for me." He kissed his neck once, well aware that that was going too far. But just for the moment he didn't care. He wasn't even sure John would notice. "You've taken care of me so much, I want to do it for you too." 

                                "I will," He whispered. His hand running through Victor's hair again. He shivered at the kiss and blushed furiously. He had never been kissed there by anyone else, it made him swallow hard. Well he'd have to mention that to Sherlock... That would be problematic. He nuzzled his nose in his hair, to hide his thoughts. "You do more for me than you know." He whispered again. "So much more."

                                "Don't say things like that, John." Victor said with a giggle, a bright blush on his cheeks. "When you say things like that it really makes me want to kiss you. Which we both know I can't do because I don't want to betray Sherlock. This he would understand, but that..." Victor explained as he rubbed their noses together, he stopped when he saw that John was tensing a bit with worry. He resolved himself to start behaving again. "I would though if I knew he wouldn't mind... I would kiss you in a heartbeat." He confessed, his heart pounding in his chest. This was too much, he was baiting John into a place that threatened to crush both of their emotions. But he had to say it at least once. He needed John to know that all of this had pushed his feelings beyond simply needing someone to cuddle with. John turned very red and loosened his arms, looking away shyly. He'd begun to suspect that Victor felt that way, and if he was honest he'd considered it on more than one occassion himself - but he didn't could never let himself explore anything with Victor because he loved Sherlock. Sherlock was his soul and he wouldn't do anything to truly compromise that. He coughed slightly and blushed more.  
                                "Oh lord, he would kill us both just for having considered it. We can't... But... I'm glad to know you care that much." He put his head on Victor's shoulder to stop himself from the train of thought banging around his head. Victor was a crush, Sherlock was his soul mate. "Well we do like to live dangerously and madly don't we?" He smiled, his hands never leaving Victor. Victor chuckled and nodded.

                                "We do." The rejection didn't hurt, he knew they couldn't and they both understood why they couldn't. They both knew how Sherlock felt about Victor, though Sherlock had taken to flirting with him a bit more recently, but there was no love there. It would hurt Sherlock if he thought that he was not the center of John's world, which he absolutely was. "I think that's just the type people Sherlock attracts. Dangerous mad people." He moved his hands to John's hair again and started to play with it, returning to their established rules so John could relax again. "Being with him gives us that thrill we need and love so much." John sighed again and sort of melted into their mutual embrace. It was heaven when Sherlock touched him but Victor was right, it wasn't the same as this. He gently ran one hand over Victor's back, the other curling against his chest as they held each other.   
                                "It's true. He does attract us." He felt guilty rejecting Victor so hard, so he thought he should offer a confession. "You... You should know you aren't the only one whose thought about it... We just can't..." He whispered in a tiny voice, wanting Victor to know his feelings weren't isolated but being firm about that boundary. He fancied Victor but he could never love him like he loved Sherlock. "This is nice..." Victor smiled fondly.

                                "I know, John." He whispered, his voice reassuring. "I understand. You're speaking to a person who understands what not wanting to hurt Sherlock feels like." He rubbed John's back in soothing circles still smiling because of how relaxed he felt. "If you want I can ask him when he gets home. If you really want to. Just one kiss. If he says, yes. Would you?" He asked curiously because some strange part of him felt like Sherlock would agree to just one kiss. Victor's eyes were full of mischief and John felt his heart skip a beat. He turned a deeper red and simply nodded because he couldn't speak. Part of him worried Sherlock would be angry and the other part switched between excitement and desperation for that kiss and the thought 'what if one wasn't enough?' John was not ashamed of his feelings, they had come naturally, but it still surprised him. Sherlock had teased him many nights, the two of them lying in a sweaty heap. John left utterly boneless by the intensity of Sherlock's love and Sherlock darkly teasing him for having a 'little boys' crush' on Victor.  
                                "Yes, I would. If he doesn't kill us for cuddling without him." He chuckled softly, his hand found its way back into Victor's hair, caressing it gently.

                                "I don't think he'll kill us," Victor assured John with a chuckle. "I think he'll just get between us and demand we pay attention to how brilliant he is." Victor ended up giggling at the thought because Sherlock would most definitely do that. "He pouts if we don't pay attention to him, have you realized that?" 

                                "Ages ago." John giggled and leaned into Victor more. "He does command attention though. Remember when we were watching that movie and he kept standing in front of the telly, telling us how the movie was so completely wrong and why?" He giggled more. "I watched your face then and I realized I would never meet anyone who understood me the way you can. You will always be in my life and I, in yours."

                                "You're so sweet, John." Victor said, his cheeks flushing more. He kissed his cheek once more and then gazed into his eyes. "I hope he lets me kiss you." He whispered and almost as if Sherlock had planned it he swept up the stairs and into the door before they even had time to separate.  "Sherlock!" Victor shouted in surprise, quickly trying to move away from John and falling on the floor with a thud as he did. He ended up laughing at the sight Sherlock looking at him as if he had lost his mind. Sherlock however had a small smirk on his face as he looked over the two of them.

 

_Finally..._

 

                                 "Don't stop on my account, you two," He said with that familiar pout that he would never admit was pout. He helped a giggling Victor up before looking to John.  John expected some sort of anger or jealousy but instead he was met with the annoyed look he got when Sherlock realized John had not kept up with him on a lead. "When did you come here? I asked you an hour ago to give me your wallet." When John explained he had been here for at least two hours. Sherlock raised his eye brows and pulled the wallet out his pocket. "Well, I guess I just mugged someone by accident then." He muttered. "I must have scared them to death when I demanded that they give me their wallet." He chuckled. John giggled but was very, very red. He looked up at Sherlock before standing. He walked over and slowly pulled Sherlock's coat off his shoulders, checking him over as he did.  
                                "You left me on the street outside the crime scene. By the time Greg let me through you were gone, love." He spoke softly because he was worried Sherlock would be angry and he was sad at having him embrace with Victor interrupted so suddenly. He pulled back from Sherlock and turned to back to Victor. "It's not the first time you've done this, we can return the wallet tomorrow. Victor are you alright?" John walked over to make sure he handy scratched anything.

 

                                "I'm okay." Victor assured him with a smile. "Let me see that wallet." He said snatching it from Sherlock to see who it belonged to. "Aw, Sherlock you nicked this off a seventeen year old girl name Katy." He laughed and put the wallet on the counter. "Poor girl."  Sherlock rolled his eyes.

                                "She'll get over it." He looked to John with a bit of a frown. "I'm sorry I left you, I could have sworn you were with me most of the time. I was talking to you the entire time. I kept wondering why you were being so quiet." Victor snorted from kitchen. "Shut up." He ordered playfully. 

                                "It's alright, I figured you would either come home or text when you noticed." John didn't move to hug Sherlock because they still hadn't completely determined the 'case' rules of their relationship. But he tried to make it clear he was interested in contact if Sherlock was open to it. "Victor has good news." He said loudly.

                                "No, Victor does not." He said just as loudly as he came from the kitchen holding a glass of wine. "Not until I know Sherly is out of his case mode." Sherlock sighed grabbing the wine from him and taking a sip.

                                "I solved the case, no thanks to either of you." He said and he handed the wine back. "So whatever 'case mode' is, I'm out of it." He wrapped his arms around John and kissed the top of his head, hugging him close.

                                "Good, then I can tell you." Victor said as he moved to sit on the couch again. He was about to give Sherlock the good news when the genius himself beat him to the punch.

                                "You talked to your father and he gave you job. You also had dinner with him, at your favorite fine dining establishment." Victor pouted.

                                "How the hell did you- Fuck, I don't even want to know how you got all that. And it was my Mum too, you git." He teased and Sherlock muttered a curse under his breath.

                                "Always something." He hissed but he let go of John to move to sit next to him. "I'm happy for you, I really am. I'm very proud of you too." He wrapped his arms around Victor and hugged him tightly. John giggled as the two of them bickered but still sort of looked like a school boy caught at something he knew he shouldn't have been doing.   
                                "He has really done amazing." John praised Victor. "You both have."

                                "I haven't done anything." Sherlock said dismissively and he chuckled at how guilty John looked. It was adorable, like a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  "John, you can stop looking like that. You were just hugging. I don't mind... Although I do wish I could have joined you two before you split up." Sherlock leaned back on the couch and Victor took that as invitation to wrap his arms around Sherlock. "After all you two have cuddled before."

                                "I want to ask you something important,'" he whispered in his ear and Sherlock hummed with a grin.

                                "That is never good." He muttered and Victor giggled. 

                                "I wanted to ask you is it okay if John and I kiss. Just once."  Without any hesitation, Sherlock nodded. John's eyes went wide and he blushed deep red. He coughed slightly and moved forward to join them on the couch. He had not expected Victor to just ask the very next time the two of them saw Sherlock and he certainly didn't expect Sherlock's response.

                                "Go right ahead." He said with a simple shrug wondering why they were even asking him.  "You two are adults. I know you two have a physical attraction towards each other. I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't be exploring just because of me. After all the two of you relish that sentimental contact that I can barely stomach."    
                                "How long have you known, Sherlock?" John asked Sherlock quietly, but with a hint of annoyance. "Don't say you didn't. You have that smirk you get when something has been utterly confirmed for you. So out with it. How long have you been enjoying our guilt?" He was still red but wrapped around Sherlock so his hands enveloped both of the other men. He met Victor's eyes briefly and knew that the allowed kiss was going to be one hell of one. He also had a sudden suspicion that Sherlock intended to witness the kiss. He smiled broadly, letting Victor choose when and where he wanted it.

                                "From the beginning, in fact probably before the two of you noticed." He said smugly. "You poor lovely idiots. Half of the time I left you alone on purpose just to see how guilty you would be when I got back." He chuckled and Victor pinched his arm.

                                "Bad, Sherly." He scolded playfully and Sherlock only giggled.

                                "Hey, I'm letting you kiss my future husband. You should be nice to me." He whispered and Victor smiled at him wickedly but pouted.

                                "Sherlock, you will be the death of me. You git, you like me being guilty?" He teased, laughing slightly. Sherlock chuckled softly.

                                "Do we have to do it now?" Victor asked quietly. He want to be alone with John so they had time to do this exploring Sherlock was talking about.

                                 "You're allowed to kiss as much as you want for tonight but I get to watch to make sure clothes stay on." John suddenly had a feeling like he missed some secret conversation. He was a whole mix of feelings which consented to reveal themselves as a deep crimson blush. When Victor when to protest he narrowed his eyes. "I trust John." He said meaningfully. John however was all nerves and confusion and happiness. He fiddled with the collar of Sherlock's shirt, giving himself away far too easily. He then laughed. 

                                "Wait, just wait a minute... This isn't going to turn into some sort of competition about which of you is a better kisser is it? Because I might have to lock myself in the bathroom for safety." He giggled but blushed again.   
  
 _You're in trouble John Watson and you love it._

 

                                "I would _never_ do that," Sherlock said, saying that very dramatically. "I am much better than that, I can't believe you." He gasped and Victor hit him on the chest playfully to make him stop and grab his attention.

                                "Thank you, Sherlock." He said, sincerely as he moved to stand but Sherlock kept him in place.

                                "Oh no you don't. You sit right here." He ordered as he patted his lap. "I want to make sure you don't get too close." He said with wicked grin.

                                "You fucking git, you're enjoying this aren't you?" Victor asked.

                                "Very much so." Sherlock chuckled.

                                "He wants to watch. Don't let him fool you." John blushed as he teased. He was watching both of them closely, completely enthralled by the moment. He searched Sherlock's face, expecting to find disappointment but surprised not to. Not what he saw in that clever face was excitement, thrill, and something darker that he couldn't quite read. He let one hand card through Sherlock's hair.

                                "No, no, John. This isn't about _me_." Sherlock said with a giggle as he pulled away from John's touch. "Touch, Victor. I know you want to." He said with a smirk as Victor moved to sit in his lap.

                                "I wanted to be alone with him," Victor told Sherlock who gave one flat laugh.

                                "Not going to happen. You two are like teenagers, especially you. I need to supervise you." John laughed and blushed but with Sherlock's encouragement grew a little bolder, reaching out to gently cradle Victor's cheek, something he hadn't done before. His thumb sliding gently over the soft skin.   
                                "He'll get bored if we keep arguing." He said softly, smiling wide.

                                "If you don't shut up and just do it, yes I will." Sherlock chuckled. He watched with rapt attention as John gave in to the bodily sensation and the moment, smirking as he did. Victor leaned into John's touch humming at the way it made him feel warm and alive. "Oh, I think he likes it, John." Sherlock whispered dramatically and when John rolled his eyes he knew he needed to stop or he wouldn't be allowed to watch anymore. "Okay, I'll be quiet, I promise." Victor leaned closer to John smirking just a bit.

                                "Come on, John, kiss me." He urged and once their lips actually collided it took the breath away from him.  John groaned breathlessly. That command had almost made him melt. Sherlock smirked because he knew Victor was not aware of John's submissive nature. He knew Victor had no idea how the words he'd just said had set the perfect stage for Sherlock's plans. The words rolled through John's mind and he moaned softly, his other hand slowly sliding up into Victor's hair.   
  
 _Christ... It felt good._    
  
                So different than Sherlock's kisses, a completely different creature in and of itself. His tongue darted out to taste more of Victor, to memorize him. Victor opened his mouth very willing letting John do whatever he wanted with that perfect tongue. Sherlock watched in awe, his breath tightening in his chest as he saw how John so lovingly explored Sherlock's former lover. Victor tried to climb off Sherlock's lap to get closer to John, but Sherlock wasn't very keen on that idea. He gripped Victor's thighs tightly, a warning that he couldn't get any closer to John than this. He didn't want Victor to do anything to John. No, John was his to touch and use. But John was more than welcome to do anything he wanted to Victor. Those were the rules. John could touch and use but Victor could not. It briefly occurred to him that he probably should have told them that.

                                "You're a git," Victor hissed to Sherlock who only chuckled. John simply looked to be in shock, which made Sherlock smirk.

                                "Play nice, Victor or this will stop." He said softly before gently pushing John's mouth towards Victor's again. John grunted and opened his eyes to look at Sherlock, he blushed. Sherlock was enjoying this. He was enjoying watching the two men that had started feeling things for each other because of him, explore those sensations. He let his mouth meet Victor's again, scooting closer as he did. His tongue searching the entire expanse of Victor's mouth as he kissed him. He pulled Victor's head down making the kiss a bit stronger as the need to touch Victor rushed through him. He felt his breath becoming more rapid and he knew he needed to stop or he was going to lose himself in the pure electric of  the kiss, the feeling of Sherlock's possessiveness growing beside him, and the utter mind numbing pleasure of it. But he couldn't pull away. Victor moaned into John's mouth as the kiss got deeper and his body got hotter, this wasn't fair. He would need more than just kisses, he wanted John. This wouldn't satisfy him for long. He was sure that Sherlock wouldn't allow that to happen but then he felt something pushing into his leg and he pulled away from John's mouth with a giggle. Poor John was left looking bruised from the kisses and thoroughly debauched.

                                "My, my, Mr. Holmes is that a gun in your pocket or are you getting off on this?" Victor asked leaning towards him.

                                "No gun." Sherlock answered simply their mouths almost touching. Victor smiled, so it was true.

                                "You like watching your boys enjoy each other?" Victor asked and Sherlock suddenly very breathless, nodded. John could only watch at the two of them stared at each other, both panting with desire.

 

 _Christ... How long had Sherlock been waiting for this?_    
  
                John whimpered slightly, not entirely thrilled to have had his kiss disturbed. He let his hand snake up into Sherlock's hair and tugged it gently, pushing his mouth to Victor's.   
                                "You've wanted this too, haven't you?" He whispered into Sherlock's ear. "That's why you left us alone, so you could punish us when you caught us doing exactly what you wanted us to. Isn't it?" He let go of Sherlock's hair, watching the two of them closely.

                                "Yes, John." Sherlock answered, not sounding ashamed at all. He actually growled full of lust. He wrapped his arms around Victor and kissed him hard, there was a passion here that wasn't like when they were actually together. Victor could recognize it, it wasn't the false emotion of someone desperate not to be alone - it was the pure raw sexual attraction of a man who wanted what he saw in front of him. It was the pure attraction that had blistered between them but Sherlock had held back from because he wasn't in love with him. Sherlock understood now that being in love with someone was not a requirement for sex, attraction was. And he had that, oh yes he did. Victor was moaning into Sherlock's mouth, his hands gripping his shirt tightly. Out of all the times they had kissed it had never been this heated. Sherlock had usually been so guarded before but now he was finally getting to have him.  "I'm not sorry for my behavior either." Sherlock said with a smirk at John, noting how utterly helpless the doctor looked. "You'll have to put me over your knee later." Victor gave a growl.

                                "Stop talking." He begged, locking their lips again. John watched them in a lustful awe, moaning softly as he did. He loved to watch Sherlock give in to desire and this was definitely a thing of beauty. A sort of jealousy purred in his chest and he wanted to struggle with them over kissing the other but he just stayed where he was, somewhat transfixed by what he was seeing.   
                                "Oh God..." He whispered softly, shifting a bit. Sherlock tore his mouth away from Victor making him groan in frustration.

                                "You're a fucking tease." Victor hissed as he started to ravish Sherlock's neck. Sherlock looked over at John with a knowing grin.

                                "I know for a fact you don't have a gun your pocket, Dr. Watson."  He hummed. "You're enjoying this too? I thought the thought of him touching me drove you _insane_." He teased as he gave a moan that strictly was to meant to tease John. "Fuck, Victor, yes. Right there." He whimpered, giving John a wicked grin. Yes, it felt wonderful, but whimper worthy? No. Not yet. And Victor knew this too but he kept the act up growling as he lightly kissed Sherlock's ear lobe because he wanted to tease John too. John stood and his look changed, the same sort of look he'd worn when he'd put on his uniform. His breath heaving in his chest.  
                                "Don't make me get out the uniform Sherlock." He growled and let his hand find its way back into Sherlock's hair, tugging gently but with purpose as he attacked the other side of Sherlock's neck. He let one hand reach over and slip under Victor's untucked shirt caressing his back. He growled into Sherlock's neck latching his tongue over the pulse point before biting down and then licking it again.  "You want to control this, take it." He challenged Sherlock.

 

 _Fuck_..

 

                At this point, Sherlock wasn't sure what he wanted. He felt like if he tried hard enough he could have both of these boys doing every little thing he said. Christ, it'd be wonderful too. But Sherlock wasn't sure if he could fight enough to regain control. This felt remarkable. Having both of these gorgeous men ravish his neck made him want to melt and made him want to obey every one of Captain Watson's commands. In the end, he tried to be logical. Which way would he get the most use out of the both of them? Yes, he was being selfish but he didn't care. Logic told him being submissive would get him what he wanted... But the ache in his cock told him if he was desperate enough he could have both of these boys on their knees for him. Then he felt it, he felt John's desire to be commanded. To be punished for having these thoughts. It made him hum in enjoyment.

                                "What am I hearing about a uniform?" Victor asked, suddenly very intrigued. He pulled off Sherlock's neck clearly looking John over and fantasizing about said uniform.

                                "Something John likes to think he can make want to be submissive with." Sherlock replied and he moved Victor off his lap. "Sit right there for just one moment, Victor. I want to prove something to my _pet_ here." He growled and without any warning he pushed John onto his back and locked their lips together in a heated kiss. His hand gripping John's erection through his trousers.  "You're mine. You're my toy and you're going to behave in front of our delicious guest." He ordered, hissing into his ear before he nibbled on it. John groaned and just dissolved under Sherlock's grip. He moaned and whimpered as Sherlock's voice took on his commanding tone. He didn't even move just whimpering and moaning as Sherlock asserted his dominance over him.   
                                "God yes," he groaned as Sherlock pulled up slightly. "Yes... Master." He flushed bright red, averting his eyes.

                                "Good boy." Sherlock praised giving him one last kiss and then looking to Victor on the other end of the couch who was wide eyed and clearly aroused. He had no idea they were into this kind of thing. What was more it was shocking considering he always thought Sherlock was the submissive, even in their relationship he'd acted submissive. This however was thrilling, he smirked.

                                "Do I get to call you that?" He asked breathlessly and Sherlock shook his head.

                                "No, I'm not your Master. John is." He nodded his head toward John and Victor swallowed hard. "But you both do whatever I say, understand?" He asked as he gripped Victor by the hair.

                                "Yes," Victor panted as he felt Sherlock lips attack his neck.

                                "Yes, what?" Sherlock asked.

                                "Yes, Sir." He whispered. Sherlock bit his neck and Victor moaned. "Yes, Sir." He said loudly his eyes fell on John from across the couch. John was still completely overwhelmed which meant Victor could dominate him. He licked his lips and reached for him but Sherlock pinned his arms above his head.

                                "No, you don't get to do that. He's _mine_." Sherlock growled.

                                "Can't you _share_?" Victor asked and Sherlock chuckled. John was watching them with wide eyes, desperate for someone to touch him.

                                "You're lucky I am allowing this." Sherlock pushed Victor into the couch angrily. John whimpered and without thinking slid off the couch and onto all fours, crawling over to the two of them. His head held low. Victor and Sherlock both groaned with desire as they watched him.  
                                "Please Master," he begged Sherlock. He desperately needed to be touched. He needed this. Them. All of it. The arousal in their voices threatening to drown him. "Please give me orders, Master. Please." Sherlock looked over at John with a smirk, his hands running over Victor's body. So it was true, John wanted Sherlock to enjoy this more than he wanted to enjoy it himself.

                                "You're orders are to strip your own lovely pet." Sherlock pulled away from Victor who whimpered. "Be sure to satisfy him, John. If you don't, I will and I'll make you sit and watch." He warned. 

                                "Why am I anyone's pet?' Victor asked wondering what exactly he would get for misbehaving. "What if I don't want that," He said, crossing his arms and pretending to be stubborn. 

                                "Uncross your arms." John commanded, all the whimpering gone as he stood up the full height. Sherlock groaned deeply as he watched John become the Captain. This was what he wanted, to be in the middle. Commanding and commanded. Oh it was deliciously beautiful. "Listen to me well," John grabbed his hair and put his face close to Victor's so as he spoke their lips brushed. "If you resist my Master's orders or mine, I will tie you down and beg him to fuck me senseless while no one touches you." He grinned as Victor shuddered, John was good. "Uncross. Your. Arms." Victor usually was a bit more determined to fight, but he could tell how deathly serious John was. He swallowed nervously and nodded.

                                "Sorry, Master." Victor whispered, uncrossing his arms as he was told. Sherlock chuckled from the other end of the couch.

                                "You're doing wonderful, John." He said, his voice thick with lust. "Now get his clothes off." Victor looked to John, a smirk on his lips.

                                "Come on, get my clothes off, Doctor Watson. I know how long you've wanted to." He teased. 

                                "Captain." John corrected him as he dug his nails lightly, but warningly into Victor's leg before he slowly started unbuttoning Victor's shirt. He kissed down over Victor's neck, his hand back in Victor's hair as he slowly pushed the shirt down off of his shoulders. "Master, how shall I punish him for disobeying?" John purred lifting up to look at Sherlock, his lips wet with arousal. Sherlock grinned widely. Christ he loved this. He had so much power over the both of them and it was without a doubt one of the best things he had ever experienced. Especially John, he could throw him down and fuck him senseless on the floor of the flat and he would just beg for more...  
                                "Oh, I don't know." Sherlock hummed, moving to slip his own trousers off because of how tight there were becoming. "I would suggested giving him a good spanking but I think he'd just enjoy it." Victor wrapped his arms around, John, aching to be closer to him and Sherlock smirked. "I have already told him you aren't allowed to touch him, Victor." He growled and Victor pouted.

                                "You two are not fair," Victor spat sounding like a child.

                                "Fine, John, he wants to act like a child treat him like one. Put him over your knee." He ordered as started to unbutton his own shirt. John deftly removed Victor's remaining clothes and flipped him over his knee, holding his head down with a bit of force on his head. Victor was completely caught off guard and moaned, shifting his hips slightly.  
                                "Master finally gives us this gift and you want to be spoiled, pet..." John said softly before bringing his hand down to smack Victor's arse. He moaned as he felt Victor jerk and he ran his fingers over it to soothe him slightly. "We want to enjoy this Victor, obey me." He commanded. "Ask Master for forgiveness." Victor wasn't trying to be spoiled, he really wasn't. He just wasn't used to having so many restrictions. It would take him a while to learn he needed to obey these rules no matter how foolish he thought they were. But with each smack John brought down on his ass he became desperate for more. His cock was hard and ached, leaking as it hit John's leg when he writhed from the smacks. John smacked and comforted, but the smacks grew harder. Victor bit his lip, hating that he was weak enough to actually give into this.

                                "Please, forgive me?" He whispered so quietly that Sherlock wasn't sure any proper words came out.

                                "Again, John." He ordered and Victor yelped when the stinging smack to his ass came again.

                                "Please, forgive me for being spoiled brat." He said a little louder. Sighing as John pulled him up and kissed him softly. It wasn't as sexually charged as Sherlock, no John kissed him with patience and kindness. Victor was glad John was a bit softer than Sherlock, it was nice to know there was balance. Sherlock was the rough sexually charged one, John was still rough but nowhere near as sexually charged. He was soft and gentle and it made Victor melt into him. He then put him back in the chair.  
                                "I forgive you. Master do you forgive him? May I touch him more please?" 

                                "I forgive him as long he promises to behave," Sherlock said, gazing at Victor who nodded quickly.

                                "Yes, Sir. I promise." Sherlock gave a hum of approval and looked to John.

                                "You may touch him but you really should get those clothes off, pet. You're the only one dressed now."

                                "Yes Master. Forgive me." John said softly as he stood and slowly, knowing it would tease both of them, began to remove his clothes. First his shirt letting it flutter to the ground slowly, then his trousers, and lastly his pants. He almost sighed with relief as the pants came away, his cock aching and hard. He then knelt down and put himself between Victor's knees so their chests just barely brushed together as he kissed him and then began to explore his jaw, neck, and chest with gentle kisses and nips. "God you taste good..." John hummed as he gently worked at Victor's neck before moving just below his collar bone and working at leaving a love bite. Victor gave a gasp of pleasure. It had been years since anyone had touched him like this. He had been touched but not properly, not with loving attention and kindness like this. No one kissed or caressed him like John was doing now, not even Sherlock.

                                "Oh, John." He moaned, his lips finding John's shoulder to which Sherlock gave a glare. "Sorry, Master." He whispered, moving his lips away as he clutched the couch cushions to keep his hands from wandering. "You're perfect, John. You really are. Please don't stop."  John hummed in satisfaction and continued working, alert for Sherlock's command to tell him to stop. He moaned loudly as he continued down, lathing attention over every inch of skin slowly and with purpose.  It was utterly intoxicating. He tasted and moved so differently to Sherlock. It was softer, needier... Another of their shared traits. He enjoyed learning each response as he went so teasingly slow, completely focused.

"Fuck, John, please!" Victor begged and he wasn't even sure what he was asking for. He just wanted this teasing to end. He couldn't take it. He needed more. So much more and apparently these two were going to make him beg for it.   
                                "Oh, John. You've made him squirm enough." Sherlock said with a wicked grin. "Victor, get down on your knees and suck John's cock." He ordered and Victor whimpered. He just wanted to be touched. "Don't pout. You'll enjoy it too." He assured as he got behind Victor and wrapped his arms around him. "I'm going to tell you everything he likes." He whispered in his ear with sly smirk. "Lick the underside of his cock, it's extremely sensitive." Victor shivered but leaned forward to do as he was told. He took John's length into his hand and licked from base to tip, almost moaning himself as he watched John come undone.

                                "Oh!" John shouted and he stay still but moaned loudly. The look on Sherlock's face and the way Victor was touching him were incredible. He wanted to close his eyes but he knew Sherlock wanted him to watch every minute. He whimpered and moaned both their names, trembling.  "Oh Master, he is teasing me. You are making him tease me. Please more!" He begged, not caring how it sounded, his eyes on Victor as he worked. Victor, being a very giving lover tried to do just that. He took John into his mouth but Sherlock pulled him away by his hair.

                                "What now?" Victor growled and Sherlock gave him a smack on the thigh for snapping at him.

 

                                 "Don't speak to me that way." He ordered.

                                "Sorry, Sir." Victor sighed.

                                "Now, don't go doing that just yet. Show him how well you can tease him first. I want him desperate." He whispered in Victor's ear. 

                                "But...Sir he looks desperate as it is." Sherlock chuckled as he stared to make love bites on Victor's shoulders.

                                "He can do better than that." John whimpered and clawed the floor, his whole body shaking. He groaned and shivered.   
                                "Please Master! Please Victor!" His breath was shaking in his chest. His body aching with need and he moaned and whimpered more, pleading with both of them. "Master you are tormenting me! Please let him touch me more! Please!"

                                "Sherlock," Victor said in a pleading voice, his eyes meeting Sherlock's. "You're drunk with power. If you're going to be in control you must be fair about this." He said firmly and Sherlock gave him a smirk.

                                 "It sounds like you want to be in control." He noted and Victor, suddenly feeling a bit bolder nodded.

                                "I do because someone has to show John a good time and it looks like you just want to be masochist and tease him until he passes out."  Sherlock, feeling jealous and honestly a bit pissed off pushed Victor aside.

                                "You don't know him like I do." He growled. "Take control from me, I dare you." He hissed before he sucked John's entire length into his mouth. 

                                "Sherlock!" John grunted and bucked his hips slightly. He groaned trying to be still. "I'm sorry Master, please don't stop." He pleaded averting his eyes. He was red with both embarrassment at how much he was enjoying this and desperate need. He wanted to touch them but he was completely lost in their battle. "Oh God, please use me!" He begged 

                Victor may like being gentle and soft but if he was angered he could become just as bad as Sherlock. He knew he could take control. He knew exactly what to do and he would do it because he wanted to be with John too. This was supposed to be fun for them not Sherlock acting like a child. He yanked Sherlock away by the hair and Sherlock whimpered. It wasn't like when John grabbed his hair, this actually hurt.

                                "What the hell are you doing?" Sherlock shouted, wincing at how hard Victor was tugging on his hair.

                                "Taking control, Sherly." He muttered as he got down on his knees next to Sherlock, his hand still painfully tightened in Sherlock's hair. "I know what you like too, I didn't before, but I do now. You're just as much of a submissive as John or me. But like me you can get carried away with it all." He forced Sherlock's face into the floor and he groaned. "Are you going to behave?" He asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Victor grinned as he gave a hard smack to Sherlock's ass which actually made him yelp. "Are you going to behave?" He demanded. Sherlock knowing that Victor really did have the advantage now, gave a pout as he answered.

                                "Yes, Sir." Victor chuckled and tugged on Sherlock's hair tighter. "Please, please stop. I'll behave!" He begged and Victor finally let his hair go.

                                "Good boy, now go sit in your chair while I have some fun with John." He ordered. As Sherlock got to his feet he glared at Victor.

                                "You don't get to touch him," He snapped and Victor quickly grabbed him by the hair again.

                                "What was that?" Sherlock almost fell to his knees.

                                "Fuck, okay, I'm sorry." He whimpered and once his hair was released he quickly went to sit in his chair with a pout. Victor turned to John, a smile on his lips as he straddled his lap.

                                "What do you want me to do, John?" He asked. John whimpered because he wanted this but he was worried about Sherlock. He shivered. He turned to look at Sherlock because no matter how much he wanted Victor, Sherlock was his.  He was hugely conflicted.   
                                "Please... Don't hurt each other..." He asked in a small voice. Feeling guilty. "I want you both to use me. Please don't fight..."

                                "We're not fighting," Sherlock said even though the pout on his face proved how pissed off he was about the whole thing. "Well, not anymore. He won."  Victor grinned and looked back to John, insanely proud of himself.

                                "Don't worry he'll get his turn, _eventually_. Right now I want you to myself." Victor whispered, his hands in John's hair again. "Don't you remember? On the couch, we wanted to do this. We wanted to be alone." Victor brushed their lips together gently and Sherlock rolled his eyes. His head was still sore. If it wasn't he would try to gain control back, he growled softly as he watched them. Well, maybe he didn't need to. Maybe he could have John do it for him. He knew no matter how much John had fantasized about this moment he would stop in an instant if he asked him to.

                                "John, I'd just like to point out you can turn him into a whimpering fool if you don't like me sitting all the way over here _by myself_." John groaned, the feel of Victor's mouth on his momentarily short circuited his brain. He pulled Victor down into a heated kiss, letting his tongue slip into Victor's mouth. He waited until Victor melted into the kiss and he positioned his foot and flipped them. His face dark.   
                                "You two are behaving like spoiled children." He said suddenly, pinning Victor hard but biting and kissing over his neck and chest, using his hips to keep Victor pinned. "Sherlock come here." He growled motioning to a spot on the floor next to Victor, his hand in Victor's hair as he bucked his hips against Victor once causing their aching lengths to brush together. He tilted Victor's head and attacked his neck, growling. "If you two want to pout and tease I will show you how dominant I can be." Sherlock was actually surprised when John started to give him orders. That wasn't exactly his plan.

                                "Am I supposed to just sit here?" He asked sounding bored, as he watched John make Victor moan and gasp like this was the best thing in the world. He did enjoy watching them. He was simply annoyed he wasn't getting to touch or kiss anyone yet. Not to mention he hated not being the center of their attention like he usually was.

                                "Shut up, Sherlock." Victor said his voice breathless as he tried to rock his hips with John's.  John got up and he pulled Victor with him, holding him a roughly by the back of the neck. The submissive was gone again and this was more commanding than even Sherlock had seen him. He wasn't going to put up with this. He walked him over to the couch, not giving him an inch to resist and forced him to straddle Sherlock so their cocks touched and they were barely an inch from each other. He wound his hand, more gently than Victor had, but with force in Sherlock's hair and used both grips to maintain his control.   
                                "The two of you are going to sit here, just like this, until you can admit that you are behaving like children. Because it's got nothing to do with me. The two of you desperately want to show up the other using me, because you both want to fuck each other senseless. Don't argue." He snapped when Sherlock moved to protest. "I know you both well enough now. You're jealous Sherlock because Victor's attentions are on me. So you are denying him what he wants. He violently took control because your attention is mine. I'm not stupid and if either of you wants to fuck me at all you will own your feelings. Or else I'll go have a wank and lock myself in the bedroom all night." He was very serious, his voice pure authority. It was even more controlling than before when he and Sherlock had broken the table.  "I won't be the battleground for selfish children. You want me, prove it by owning yourself first."

Victor frowned while John was scolding them like the children they were. He hated it, how very right John was about all of it. He realized what he had done and how he had likely hurt John by doing it. His cheeks started to flush with embarrassment and he tried to look away from Sherlock so he could apologize but John yanked his head back up. He whimpered and closed his eyes before speaking.

                                "I'm sorry. I'm behaving like a spoiled child." Victor whispered. Sherlock nodded and looked to John with a smile.

                                "Is that enough? Can we carry on now?" He asked, honestly not realizing how childish and stubborn he was being.

                                "I apologized! So should you!" Victor snapped.

                                "I didn't do anything wrong, you're the one who pulled my hair so hard."

                                "Wrong." John growled in Sherlock's ear, knowing how much just that word would drive him mad. "You dangled me in front of him and then imposed insane rules about what he could do. You both are being foolish but at least Victor is being man enough to admit it." He rewarded Victor with a deeply passionate kiss before pulling away. "You want him. You have for a long time. Come on love," John coaxed Sherlock, whispering in his ear commandingly. "Admit it and apologize. You've hurt my feelings too." Wrong? No. He could never be wrong. He was never wrong. But he had to concede the point because John was proving how he was indeed wrong whether he wanted to admit it or not. And then he even rewarded Victor with a kiss that made him absolutely jealous. He did want Victor. Badly. But he didn't see why he had to admit it. Once he heard that he hurt John's feelings he frowned. Now that he couldn't stand.

                                "I'm sorry. I'm acting like a child." He muttered and they just looked at him, expecting him to continue. "Don't make me say it. Can't I just show how much I want him?" He asked, wrapping his arms around Victor. 

                                "Only if you're going to stop being so selfish." John said softly and he let go of both of them, standing back some. "You two can be bloody idiots. But you've wanted each other long before I came into the picture and using me to prove that to each other is not fair to any of us. So, since you don't want to use your words - show me your actions." He said it softly, still commanding them though he couldn't stop a portion of his emotion from showing.  It hurt him that the two of them had put him in the middle, had tried to use him to hurt the other. It was almost crushing, but their apologies were helping. "Go on then." He motioned to them. Sherlock looked to Victor, his face blank. He did want him. And he honestly felt bad for what he had done because it had hurt John and possibly Victor.

                                "I want you, I should have just said that." He whispered making sure only Victor heard. It was embarrassing to admit after his behavior. Victor smiled wrapping his arms around Sherlock as well.

                                "I know you idiot. You and I have always had problems expressing our feelings." He moved his lips to Sherlock's and at first he stiffened. This was different. It wasn't John and it almost made him want to pull away but he tried to remember he used to enjoy this. Once he reminded himself that he did enjoy kissing Victor he sank into the moment, his desire rocketing through him anew.

                                "Move your hips." He whispered against Victor's lips. He obliged and slowly began rubbing their cocks together. "Oh, Sherlock." Victor moaned and Sherlock locked their lips together again.  John smiled some, watching them. He stepped back towards them and let his hands run through their hair as he bent over to press hot kisses against Sherlock's neck for a long time before kissing Victor's neck.  
                                "You two look incredible, that's it..." He coaxed. "Give in to it Sherlock." He growled with lust and moved to nibble his ear, whispering. "It's okay, I love you. You haven't disappointed anyone. It's okay to want this and take it." He whispered it very low so only Sherlock could hear the words. Sherlock turned his face away from Victor's just so he could lock eyes with John for a moment. He wanted him too. So badly. He wanted them both at the same time.

                                 "John," he said, but it came out as moan because their hips were moving faster. "I want you both." He said in a pleading voice but his moved his lips back to Victor's desperate for more. He moaned into his mouth as Victor brought his hands to his hair, playing with it gently as they rocked against each other.  John groaned, he wanted to be touched. This was bloody torture. He retreated to the bedroom for a moment, returning with the bottle of lubricant and making sure the doors were locked. He then came back over to them, setting the bottle down. 

                                "Victor, wait a moment please..." John whispered and moved them so that he could get under Sherlock. He pulled Sherlock back down to sit in his lap, his erection pressing into Sherlock's back and he moaned. His legs spread wide to encompass Sherlock's body between them. He pulled Victor's hand, so he came back down and he and Sherlock could continue their earlier actions. Meanwhile John nibbled on Sherlock's neck and kept his eyes focused hard on Victor. He wrapped his hand around their cocks, making them brush each other harder. "You two are fucking gorgeous." Victor blushed at the compliment, still not used to hearing such things.

                                "Thank you, John." He panted and Sherlock feeling particularity generous, grabbed Victor by the neck and pulled him closer to John.

                                "You want him too." He whispered to the both of them because he knew that they were all to focused on one person at a time. He moaned as he felt John's hand wrap around their erections. He turned his head so he could watch his lovers kiss. "You're both perfect," He purred before he started to kiss at Victor's neck. John groaned loudly as he and Victor kissed again. At lot of dangerous things were blooming in his mind and stomach but he ignored them in favor of feeling Sherlock moving against Victor. He slowly broke the kiss off and smirked.

                                "God you two... Someone touch me, please..." John begged, groaning as he greedily pulled Victor's mouth back to his own, his hand sliding over the two of them and enjoying the pulses sparking through them under his hand. Sherlock groaned this was not the proper position to be in so they got to truly enjoy each other.

                                "Victor, get up for one moment." He ordered and Victor obeyed without question.

                                "Now what?" Victor asked.

                                "Now, grab that lube and you lead the way to the bedroom." He said with a grin as he picked John up into his arms without warning.

                                "I want to be carried," Victor said with a chuckle as he started to walk toward Sherlock and John's bedroom, the lube in hand.

                                "Later." Sherlock grunted because he had never had much upper body strength. When they entered the bedroom he sat John down on the bed and kissed him passionately. "I love you," He whispered before he turned to Victor. He lifted him up and dropped him onto the bed. "Now, let's figure out a way we can all enjoy this." Sherlock thought for a moment and then he smirked. "John, would you like to be inside, Victor?" He asked as he crawled onto the bed. "While, I'm inside you."  John's brain had short circuited somewhere back in the living room and he simply gaped at Sherlock for a long moment. He turned a few different shades of red and licked his lips with desire before he was finally able to find words again.

                                "Oh God yes." He groaned, trembling with anticipation. "If that's what you two want..."

                                "I can promise you that's what I want." Victor said with a bright grin.

                                "And it's exactly what I want." Sherlock purred as he moved behind John and wrapped his arms around him. "I only ever want you inside me," he whispered in his ear. "Just you, I belong to you." He kissed his neck, biting just a bit because he couldn't resist. "But Victor, now, he belongs to the both of us, and I suggest we show him a good time." 

                                "Yes, please show me a good time." Victor said as he moved closer to them, he brought his lips to the other side of John's neck and kissed a bit softer than Sherlock was.  John groaned and almost melted between them, clutching at them both. He whimpered and moaned, clawing at whatever part of them the two of them he could reach.

                                "Oh please... Please Sherlock... Victor..." He whimpered, reaching out to wrap a hand around both of their aching lengths and stroke them. Sherlock moaned, his head thrown back while Victor let out a soft moan as his head dropped to John's shoulder.

                                "Don't stop." He whimpered, so desperate to be touched.

                                "Victor he can touch you in a moment move to the side for a second." Sherlock ordered and Victor sighed and moved to the edge of the bed. Sherlock grabbed the lube and poured some into his hand before rubbing John's cock stroking it as he nibbled on his ear. "Now I want you to go and shag him, pet." He ordered, the smirk clear in his voice. "I want to watch just for a little bit then I promise I'll join in." He moved his hand away and gently pushed John forward. "Go get him, Tiger." John grunted and hesitated only a moment before he was all over Victor in a flurry of hands and mouths. He kissed him, slicking a bit of lube off himself and gently reaching down to toy with Victor's ass, pushing a finger against the opening while kissing him fervently.  He moaned loud and growled softly, using every movement of his body to bring pleasure and comfort to Victor and to entice his lover to not stay away too long.   
                                "God I can't wait to be strung up between you two." He panted attacking Victor's neck before slowly, gently adding a second finger. Wanting to be sure Victor was ready for him.

                                "John!" Victor moaned not able to stop himself once he felt the doctor's fingers inside him. It had been years since anyone had touched him there, and never so gently. He winced when he pulled his fingers out, but only because how badly it stretched him. Sherlock crawled over to the pair laying to the side of them, turning Victor's face, running his fingers through his hair while kissing his lips.

                                 "He's wonderful isn't he?" Sherlock said with a smirk against Victor's lips.

                                "Oh he's fucking fantastic." Victor panted.

                                "So gentle and caring." Sherlock hummed, as he met John's eyes. "Absolutely perfect."  John went slowly, moaning softly. He was desperate to make sure Victor felt amazing.

                                "God you're so tight. God Victor... Do you want me?" John begged, kissing both of them in turn.

                                "Yes, please!" Victor cried into Sherlock's mouth. He tore his mouth away from to look at John with lust filled eyes. "Please, John. I've thought about it for so long." Sherlock grinned and started to kiss Victor again.

                                "You've been thinking about my fiancé fucking you?" He asked sounding aroused and yet teasing. "You cheeky thing, Victor." He took his lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it while Victor groaned.  John growled and shivered with desire. Victor wanted him... And he hadn't realized... Oh they had been playing with fire hadn't they? He grabbed Victor away from Sherlock, pushing him on his back he put himself between Victor's legs, slowly pushing himself against and then into him. He almost shouted once he was buried to the hilt, just pausing for a minute and shaking. Sherlock groaned watching John push his way into Victor, he couldn't wait to pin John's body between them.  
                                "Oh fuck you are tight." John moaned. "You naughty boy, fantasizing about me..." He leaned down and bit and kissed over Victors neck and jaw, moving so that Sherlock could use his body however he wanted. Victor did shout at first it had been a shot of pain but melted into pleasure. He clutched the sheets to find relief as John pressed into him.

                                "I couldn't help myself." Victor explained as John started to ravish his neck and jaw. "I couldn't stop myself from imagining you coming into the shower and just shagging me." He moaned and Sherlock gave a moan of his own as he watched the scene play out, a hand on his length. Sherlock enjoyed this, tormenting the two of them with their guilt. Victor was blushing and Sherlock wanted to see John flushed too.

                                "Have you ever thought about his body, John? Have you ever thought about fucking him?" John blushed but he knew he couldn't lie. 

                                "Yes." He admitted, blushing a bit more. "I thought about this, about the three of us... And I thought about just him and I." He groaned, pushing slowly in and out of Victor. "I would imagine him sneaking in when you were at the lab and fucking me senseless. Sometimes you would find us and punish us..." He started moving a bit more, grunting. "Oh God this is... Sherlock please..." He whimpered before kissing Victor hard. "I meant it when I said I want you two to use me. Please..." Sherlock couldn't take anymore, sitting by and watching wasn't satisfying his desires. He wanted to see John come completely apart, to watch Victor dissolve. He moved behind John and started to kiss down his back.

                                "Are you sure you're ready for this, John?" He purred as he grabbed the lube and poured some onto his fingers. "You've never done anything like this before." He pointed out with a chuckle as he started to press his fingers into John.

                                "None of us have, Sherlock." Victor added in a breathless laugh, groaning as John pressed hard into him at the sensation of Sherlock's touch.

                                "Who can possibly be ready for anything with you, you fucking gorgeous bastard?" John groaned his words were rough but the meaning was kind and affectionate. He panted and yanked Sherlock close so he could kiss him, pouring his love and desire into the kiss. "But I want this far more than any sane man should, so for the love of Christ, fuck me. Pin me between you two like a fucking doll..." He begged pushing his hips hard against Victor again. Victor let out a loud moan, his back arching while Sherlock gripped John's hips and began pressing his length inside him with a low growl.

                                "Fuck, John." He pushed all the way in, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. "How does it feel?" He panted. Victor moaned once he felt Sherlock moving his hips, thrusting John into him more and more. "How does it feel, John? Is this better than what you dreamed?" John arched up, gasping and moaning. For a long moment he was nothing but growls, moans, and a long string of colorful profanities. Sherlock put a hand in his hair, making him arch his back against the detective's body and biting down firmly on his neck. He shoved his hips into John, shoving him harder into Victor and groaning as they both moaned loudly.  
                                "Oh my God!" John shouted as he shook and groaned, wrapping one arm backwards around Sherlock's neck, pumping his hips back into Sherlock and forward into Victor a few times. "It's fucking incredible. It feels so good. It's like I'm connecting you two. I don't know where any of us end or begin. Christ..." He let go of Sherlock because he couldn't reach him to kiss him and he desperately needed to kiss someone. So he leaned down and attacked Victor, kissing him furiously as his hips started moving between them on their own. Desperate for more. His face was red with lust and he was moaning and growling, completely lost in how the two of them were making him feel. "Fuck me harder Sherlock. Fuck me so hard you are fucking Victor through me." He whimpered. Sherlock couldn't even find a reply. The genius was no longer capable of speaking. All he could do was moan and growl. He sounded like ana animal but he didn't care. This was the most exotic thing he had ever done and the noises coming out of John were like instant lust in his veins. He gripped John's hips tighter, his nails digging into the skin that they would leave bruises as he slammed into John.

                                "Oh fuck!" Victor moaned, wrapping his arms around John as he felt Sherlock fucking the both of them. "Oh you two are amazing." He panted and then he his mind dropped out as his lips connected with John's again. "Oh... Oh I'm not going to last much longer," He whimpered into his mouth.

                                "Sherlock!" John shouted against Victor's mouth as he did his best to push back and keep time with Sherlock's thrusts. He was going insane, the blood was boiling in his veins and he was on the edge of an orgasm that promised to utterly destroy him. "Me... Me either..." He panted clawing into Victor's sides gently as he worked, his mouth finding whatever bit of contact it could on his mouth, neck, and chest. He was utterly pinned between the two of them and he was going absolutely insane. Victor saw the look on Sherlock's face and leaned up just slightly, changing the angle at which Sherlock contacted John. The shift gave Sherlock just enough leverage to his _that_ spot and John almost screamed. "Master," He forced out, "Please may I cum?" He whimpered, begging Sherlock for permission to fully give in. Sherlock felt himself lose control, John's desperation unhinging him completely.

                                "Yes, fuck me, yes. Cum inside Victor!" He growled as he continued to slam into the both of them. He was on the edge of an amazing orgasm as well. It was so achingly close his movements were becoming harder and faster. Then just when he thought he couldn't take anymore he felt John tighten around him. The moans that escaped both of his lovers lips caused him go over the edge with such a powerful orgasm it literally took his breath away. He didn't know how long he stopped breathing but once he started again he gasped and clung to John. His body shaking as he rode out the aftermath. "Oh God. Oh my God." He repeated over and over again, no other words coming into his mind. John and Victor shouted loud as they orgasmed and John just barely stopped himself from collapsing on Victor. He held himself up so Sherlock was braced against him but it was clear he would not be able to hold their weight long. He could not speak or even try form words. He just panted and shook as he stared at Victor. He was boneless and wanted to just fall down, his arms shaking hard.

                                "Oh... God..." He finally forced out, gasping for breath. Sherlock and Victor recovered , both of them smiling.

                                "D-Did that just happen?" Victor panted. His mind still fuzzy and his body still tingling. "Did I really just get to do that with you?" He smiled up at John and Sherlock before laughing. "Oh, Christ, that just happened. That really just happened." Sherlock smiled and ended up laughing a bit as well.

                                "We just had a threesome... I just had a threesome... Well that will prove to my brother that sex doesn't alarm me." He said haughtily as he gently pulled out of John with a bit of wince and then collapsed on the bed next to the pair of them. John managed to move just enough that  when he fell he face planted onto the bed instead of on Victor. He chuckled a bit but he was still too breathless to speak fully. He panted and tried to recover, shaking slightly. Sherlock looked victoriously pleased as he watched John trembling.  
                                "Holy fuck..." John forced out. Sherlock chuckled and wrapped his arms around John, kissing his shoulder.

                                "I take that as evidence you enjoyed it?" He asked and Victor moved closer as well, snaking his arms around John and kissing his nose.

                                "You were amazing." Victor whispered and there was a lot of emotion behind it. Sherlock watched the two of them curiously. John easily turned his eyes up to Victor's, flushing with pleasure that Victor had enjoyed himself - though he still could not breathe. Sherlock felt a pang of sadness as he realized Victor used to look at him the way he was looking at John. Had his feelings for him faded? "Did you forget how to breathe?" Victor teased, running a hand through John's hair. "It's alright love, take at easy." He said encouragingly. He was being a lot more affectionate than Sherlock usually was and that was causing jealously to rise in Sherlock's chest. He bit his tongue because he knew John didn't want them to fight, this wasn't a competition. He nuzzled John's shoulder with his nose, trying to be affectionate as well. John finally flipped over and slowly wrapped his arms around both of them, holding them close. Letting them both rest on his chest for a moment.  
                                "That was amazing." John whispered. "And yes Victor I did forget for a minute there." He laughed. He kissed the tops of their heads and pulled them closer. "Thank you Sherlock." He whispered, nuzzling his ear. "I love you." He sighed heavily. "I could not have imagined a moment as amazing as this. You both are incredible." Sherlock blushed once he heard those sweet words in his ear. It was just the reminder he needed. He relaxed and cuddled John more, his eyes closing. Victor kissed John's cheek and jaw a few times.

                                "Thank you, you were amazing too. So were you, Sherly." Victor added, moving a hand to run through that curly hair. Sherlock leaned into the touch with a fond smile.

                                "I loved this," he began and they all knew there was a 'but' coming after that, "But... I don't think it'd be wise if we ever did it again." John raised an eyebrow and looked squarely at Sherlock. It was clear he expected an explanation to follow.   
                                "I don't know why you would stop something you enjoy, but if that's really how you feel, okay." John let his fingers card through Victor's hair, watching them both in turn. He felt a deep pang of sadness because he knew he wouldn't be able to cuddle with Victor anymore, not because he didn't want to but because the temptation would be too strong. Sherlock felt his cheeks warm at John's logic. Why stop if you enjoy it? That was a very logical answer. His heart began to pound and his mind began to ache as his mind tried to deiced what was right and wrong. He touched his forehead, and closed his eyes with a huff, it was obvious he was a bit scared and frustrated.

                                "I thought... If two people are getting married they're not supposed to go off and sleep with other people." He insisted but it sounded like he was questioning this. Victor frowned, he had almost forgotten this would have to end after tonight. He didn't want it to. He loved both of these men very much and he couldn't imagine not being with them. At the thought of this being the last time being so close together, he snuggled up next to John and hid his face in his chest.

                                "I don't want this to end," he confessed.

                                "Love," John whispered to Sherlock. He tightened his arm around Victor and put his other hand gently on Sherlock's cheek, meeting his eyes. "You are right in most people's view they aren't. But there are some very logical things here for us to continue so long as you care about Victor and want him here. He gives us both things that no matter how hard you and I try, we can never give each other." His words were soft, full of love. "I want to marry you, I want to be with you forever. That hasn't changed. I love you so much it hurts. Victor can make us better. For example you need constant attention and stimulation. You have the cases for that but that beautiful mind of yours crowds out affection, especially in case mode. That's why Victor and I cuddle so much. Because if you started trying to be soft and gentle all the time it would completely ruin the man you are. He knows what it's like to love the greatest man in the world, who burns like the sun and can burn like fire without meaning too. He also knows things about you I never will. You trust him just like you trust me. He was there for you in a time that no one else was. And he is the only one who can truly hold power over you. I can't take that control because I wouldn't know what to do with it. He does. He knows how to talk you out of a corner, how to make you share your heart with me, and how to show you your way in the world. I know that it is because of him you were even able to love me." He sighed, blushing as he did. "So I would be happy to have the world know I was married to the brilliant Sherlock Holmes and to also share our life with Victor for however long he chooses. It's like anything else, we can negotiate rules and plans so no one is forgotten or hurt. But only if you want it. I..." He blushed more and looked away. "I could easily love him as I do you, but I stop myself because first and foremost is you. I never want to hurt you, ever. And I think even though you keep saying you don't... I think over the last few months the beginnings of something have started in you too. So if you're looking for permission from me you have it. You aren't hurting me by having him here. I want you to be happy in every way." Sherlock knew for sure now. John was the one he wanted to be with forever. He knew he wanted to marry him before, but now there wasn't a bone in his body that held any doubt. John loved him so much that he was willing to accept keeping Victor around. They could all be happy like for as long as they wanted. He leaned up and kiss John softly on the lips.

                                "I love you." He whispered before turning to look to Victor. "As long as you're happy, we can keep doing this. But if you ever want this to stop, you just have to say so." Victor went a bit wide eyed, they were leaving this all up to him?

                                "I'm very happy. As long as I'm with the both of you, I'm very happy." Sherlock leaned over, kissing his lips just as gently.

                                "Then we'll do this as much as you like." He assured him. Victor smiled lovingly at Sherlock, running his hand through his hair.

                                "Just when I think I can predict where you want to go, you surprise me." 

                                "That's the way it will always be too." John blushed more, his gaze on the two of them. His heart pounding rapidly in his chest. "If you two ever need time alone together just tell me. Otherwise I'll assume any time the two of you are pleasantly engaged with each other I am welcome to join in." He grinned before chuckling. "We're mad, all of us. But it's far better to be mad together." He kissed both of them in turn, claiming both of their mouths with deeply tender, loving kisses and holding them both a bit tighter. "Same goes for you Sherlock, if you ever become unhappy just say so. I promise I will too." Sherlock smiled at the both of them. He loved them both. Not equally but he loved them both. They were his boys.

                                "I still want to be alone with you sometimes." Sherlock whispered to John and Victor smiled fondly.

                                "Then just tell me and you two can be alone. I don't mind." He kissed Sherlock's nose which caused his cheeks to flush.

                                "Thank you, Victor." He breathed.

                                "And if you ever want to be alone with John, just let me know." His fingers moved to play with the dog tags around his neck. He hardly ever took them off anymore. "Can we leave you alone here for just a moment, Victor?" Sherlock asked and Victor, knowing exactly what Sherlock wanted to do, grinned.

                                "Sure. Just don't take too long." He curled up on his side while Sherlock pulled John out of the bed.

                                "Put on your robe." He ordered as he slipped his own on. He went into the living room and quickly found his coat on the floor. He retrieved the ring box and held it tightly in his hand. He hoped he had chosen the right ring. "Come on, John. I'm not getting younger." He teased. 

John gave Victor another long kiss, his chest purring happily as he found his robe and pulled it on. He followed Sherlock into the living room and before following Sherlock to where he stood he walked over to the couch and dug in his jacket. He pulled out the ring box which he secreted in one hand and silencing his cell phone with the other, before tossing it back on the couch. 

                                "You're so eager today," John grinned and he pulled Sherlock to him tightly, kissing him with a deep heat. "You are incredible and I will never in my life be able to keep up with you but damn I am going to hang on and enjoy the ride." Sherlock chuckled and kissed him once more before pulling away.

                                "I promise to try to remember to slow down for you." He assured his soon to be husband. "Now, I think I should tell you why I brought you in here." He began, his heart suddenly pounding with nervousness. He took a deep breath and revealed his ring box. He looked at John, trying to study his reaction. He felt relieved once he smiled and Sherlock handed him the ring box and kissed his cheek. "Open it." He whispered and when John did as he was told, the gasp that came from him made Sherlock giggle. "It's gold. I thought gold would look better on you than silver. But what's really special is what's on the inside." He took the ring out of the box and placed it on John's finger. "The longer you leave it on, the word, 'Always' will be imprinted on your finger." He kissed his cheek again, some tears of actual joy coming to his eyes. "Do you like it? Did I make the right choice?" John laughed with joy and kissed Sherlock. It was clever and perfect and totally him.

                                "It's wonderful. I love it." His breath shook and he opened his hand to reveal the box for Sherlock. "And yes you're wearing it." He blushed, his eyes glassed over. "You won't need to take it off." He opened the box and showed him. It a dark black color, made of a special type of steel so it wouldn't bend. The outside edges were gold and the black middle of the ring rotated. "I thought a purely gold ring would likely get bent while you ran about for cases, so the steel is unbendable. It's a spinner ring, which means you can spin it with one finger while you brood and think... So I thought it might be easier for you to keep it on."

                He was nervous like a child, desperately hoping Sherlock would like it. A tear fell as he realized how much this meant for them. How true it all was. Sherlock breath caught in his throat once he actually saw it. It was stunning and beautiful and something only John would be able to pick out. When he finally remember how to break it came out shaking and tears were streaming down his face as he took it with a bright smile.

                                "You took so much into consideration." He said, his voice cracking a bit as he slid it onto his finger and stared at it. He span it just to see how it would feel and he let out a laugh. Yes, he would spend his days spinning this ring on his finger while he though. He turned his face to John and kissed him as hard as he could through his tears of happiness. "I love it. I love it so much, John. I'll never take it off." John flushed with pleasure and pulled Sherlock close to his body, kissing him and laughing slightly at the stupid tears the two of them were shedding. 

                                "Thank you," He whispered, nuzzling his nose against Sherlock's cheek and holding him close. "Thank you for opening up all of your feelings, for trusting me so much these last several months, and for not being angry that I had developed feelings for Victor. I really do care about him a lot, I'd say I love him, but you are the light in my life and nothing will ever change that. Whatever you do, remember that. I love you just how you are Sherlock, you don't have to change anything for me. Ever." Sherlock brought their lips together, his heart pounding and his mind wondering on how they would spend their lives together. When he pulled away, he climbed into John's lap and wrapped his arms around him.

                                "I love you." He whispered, putting their heads together. "I will always love you." He rubbed their noses together, giggling just a bit. "I will love you when we're both old and gray. I will love you when we have a baby that's keeping us up at all hours of the night." He brushed their lips together once more. He grabbed John's hand, pulling off his ring just a little bit so he could see the imprint of the world 'always' on his finger. "Always." He whispered before he slipped the ring back on and met John's lips with a deep kiss.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue to wrap things up and setup the next story. It's not the best thing ever but it's still sweet and cute!

                Four months later things weren't much different for Sherlock. He was still running around solving cases with his fiancée, the two of them helping Victor study and prepare for an entrance exam to return to University. Victor and John had taken up going to the gym, which Sherlock didn't regret letting him do. Greg and Mycroft actually enjoyed coming by the flat now and again for dinner with the three men, though Mycroft had initially been greatly displeased with their arrangement. Victor worked long hours for his father and the trio enjoyed every moment they could spare to be together. So it wasn't a surprise when Sherlock got the following text:

_Victor got into University and has purchased his own flat, we're celebrating tonight. You'd better be at the flat by 7:00 sharp or you're in trouble. JWH_

 

                Sherlock grinned, he loved how John kept adding that H to his name when he text him. They hadn't made things actually official just yet because cases had come but Victor and John had been planning some sort of ceremony that Sherlock was expected to go along with. He knew John would not be meeting him at St. Bart's to look over the chemical reports from this latest case because tonight was the night he and Victor went to the gym. The problem was he got hung up at the lab explaining things to Greg in order to close the case. It was 7:30 when the cab pulled up outside the flat and he was surprised to see that most of the lights in the flat were out. He scaled the steps, walking in and taking off his coat.

                                "You're late." John's voice said darkly from the kitchen. "Close the door." He commanded. Sherlock swallowed hard. Was he angry? He couldn't tell. He shut the door and locked it, moving towards the kitchen and he groaned. 

                John was wearing his uniform, the new set of dog tags that Sherlock and Victor had given him, one each with a romantic message from his lovers, shining on his chest. His new more muscular form making the uniform look even more amazing than before and a pair of handcuffs in his hands. 

                                "Very late." Victor said from behind him, appearing from the direction of the bedroom. He was in a very dashing suit, all the way done up. Sherlock felt desire rush through him, which only intensified when he saw that Victor had his riding crop in his hand.

                                "I think we need to punish him." John smirked.

                                "My type of celebration." Victor smirked as well, stepping closer to Sherlock.

                Sherlock's last cohesive thought that evening was: _Well shit... Maybe I should be late more often._

\---

                A few months later Victor moved out, he'd purchased his own flat and decided it was time to try to build his own life. But John didn't have time to think about that because shortly after Victor left Sherlock and he were called on a case to investigate the grisly murder of a young couple. While on the scene Sherlock shouted at everyone to be silent and leaned down opening a hidden trap door to reveal a baby boy who was screaming his lungs out. Greg, John, Donovan, and Anderson watched in confused awe as Sherlock cuddled the child close, bouncing him and whispering to him.

                                "Those were his parents." John said softly, looking up.

                                "According to the records they don't have any family..." Lestrade sighed.

                                "We'll take care of him..." Sherlock said suddenly.

                                "Just until his family comes forward." John added sternly.

                But no one ever showed but the biggest surprise for John came when three days later Sherlock rushed up the stairs to Baker Street with the baby boy in one arm and an adoption certificate in the other.

                                "Hamish Watson-Holmes?" John asked incredulously. "Sherlock..."

                                "He needs us John! He doesn't have anyone else!" Sherlock said eagerly.

               

_This brilliant, impulsive man..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for the sequel: All He Wants for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to leave a comment or Kudos. :)


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